m :':•• 



Familiar Wild Animals 
Lottridde 




Class 

Book 

Copyright N .- 



COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 




The Opossum 



Familiar Wild Animals 



BY 

SILAS A. LOTTRIDGE 



Photographs from Nature by the Author 




NEW YORK 

HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY 

1906 



.L-SS 



LIBRARY of CONGRESS 
Two Cooies Received 

APR 5 1906 

Copyright Entry . 
LASS tttXc.Ho.. 




Copyright, 1906 

BY 

HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY 



ROBERT DRUMMOND, PRINTER, NEW YORK 



To Dorothy 
..Who Loves Animals 

This Book is 
Affectionately Dedicated 




PREFACE 

jHESE sketches and pictures are chosen 
from my Animal Snapshots to help stim- 
ulate school children in the direct ob- 
servation of outdoor life. For years I have been 
studying and photographing our friends in fur and 
feathers in their native haunts. I have entered into 
their lives as much as possible, in order to know 
their habits and wild ways — how they live, and how 
they care for their young. I here attempt no more 
than a simple narrative concerning the birds and 
mammals that I have come to know a little about. 
The facts are all from my own observations and 
experiences, except in a few instances where I have 
drawn upon trustworthy sources. 

I am under obligations to various landowners for 
the privilege of tramping about their fields, and in 
many instances for valuable assistance. To the 
boys, also, who have helped me in so many ways I 
extend sincere thanks. 

Thanks are due the proprietors of St. Nicholas 

and Field and Stream for permission to republish 

articles which have appeared in these magazines. 

S. L. 
East Orange, N. J., 

January, 1906. 

v 



CONTENTS. 
PART I. 

Four-footed Beasts. 

PAGE 

woodchtjck 3 

Opossum 13 

Fox 20 

White-Footed Mouse 35 

Gray Squirrel 41 

Flying Squirrel 54 



PART II. 

Birds. 

Bluebird 67 

Robin 75 

Chimney Swift 83 

Bobolink 91 

Screech Owl 101 

Sparrow Hawk no 

vi i 



ILLUSTRATIONS. 

PAGE 

The Opossum Frontispiece 

The Mother Woodchuck on the Fence 8 

An Interested Fox 20 

The White-Footed Mouse 36 

In the Orchard 48 

A Gray Squirrel Forest in Winter 52 

The Bluebird Tree 68 , 

Young Robins Thirteen Days Old 80 

Nest and Young of the Chimney Swift 88 , 

Nest and Eggs of the Bobolink 94 

" Billy and Betty " 106 

Young Sparrow Hawks. no 

rx 




THE WOODCHUCK 

(HE woodchuck is well known among the 
farmer boys and girls throughout the 
Middle and Eastern States, for he is as 
much a part of the farm as is the brook or the sugar- 
bush. 

In form he is far from graceful, especially in the 
latter part of the summer when his body becomes 
very fat and pouchy. The color of his fur varies from 
a reddish brown to a grizzled gray or, occasionally, 
black; while his teeth, like those of the squirrel and 
prairie-dog, are strong and well adapted for cutting. 

The woodchuck is of the earth earthy, and there is 
a peculiar odor about the place where he dwells, for 
he lives not in the lap, but in the bosom, of Mother 
Earth, — however his summer home may be in a wall 
or stone-heap. The woodchuck of the present day 
is rather inclined to desert the old home in the woods, 
where he fed upon tender bark and roots of various 
kinds, and become a dweller in the field near the 
clover-patch and garden. Here he is so destructive 

3 



4 The Woodchuck 

that he has become a special object of persecution by 
the farmers, and from early spring until fall a con- 
tinual warfare is waged against him; some are trapped, 
many are shot, and not a few are destroyed by the 
farm dogs. 

The trap is set at the entrance of the burrow, being 
made fast to a stake which is driven into the ground. 
Woodchucks are more easily trapped in May or 
June than later in the season, for during the former 
months they are much oftener out in the open. The 
old ones frequently become very shy, especially those 
living in meadows remote from the house, and having 
their burrows in the edge of the woods. Sometimes 
one of these woodchucks will spring a trap day after 
day without being caught, or even dig around the 
trap, much to the disgust of the farmer boy, who is 
usually paid a bounty of ten cents for each " chuck" 
caught. 

After the grass has been mown the woodchucks 
become much wilder, and it is at this time that the 
"village sportsmen" betake themselves into the 
country on leisure afternoons to indulge in the pastime 
of shooting them. 

The farm dog occasionally develops great ability 
in the capture of woodchucks. A certain old dog 
by the name of "Shep, " which belonged to a New 



The Woodchuck 5 

York State farmer, was a famous woodchuck hunter. 
After locating a woodchuck, Shep would watch his 
movements for a little time, then, while the woodchuck 
w T as feeding, she would move directly toward him. 
Keeping her body close to the ground she would 
stop instantly and lie very still whenever the wood- 
chuck raised himself on his haunches to look about 
for danger. When Shep believed herself to be near 
enough to the entrance of the burrow she would 
make a dash for it. If she reached it first, there 
was sure to be one woodchuck less to nibble the 
fragrant clover. 

No animal exerts less energy in the course of a 
year than does the woodchuck. He feeds upon the 
best in the meadow and occasionally the garden, 
being particularly fond of the juicy peas and beans 
and tender lettuce. Then as winter comes on for- 
getting all care and worry he crawls into his burrow 
and, like the bear, falls asleep, not to awaken until 
the warm spring sunshine has touched with caressing 
fingers the slumbering world of nature. 

Some years ago while returning from the mill-pond 
where I had been fishing through the ice for pickerel, 
I came upon a man in the open field digging for a 
skunk, which he had tracked into what seemed to be 
a woodchuck's burrow. As the man was evidently 



6 The Woodchuck 

very near his game I waited to learn the result. The 
burrow branched, and following one of the branches 
the man came upon a little ball of fur, not the skunk 
he was after, but a woodchuck fast asleep. He was 
given to me and I took him home. When warmed 
he slowly awoke, but soon fell asleep again because 
Nature called for a longer nap. 

Let us select a representative woodchuck family 
and follow in a general way its career, from the time 
the young are born until they are safely settled in 
homes of their own. The cubs usually number four 
or five, and the date of their birth is not far from 
the tenth of May. The suug little chamber in which 
they are born is located two or three feet under the 
ground and contains a small cozy bed of dry grass 
gathered the previous fall. 

By the old rail fence just back of the orchard on 
my father's farm lived a woodchuck family. The 
mother introduced herself one bright warm morning 
in the latter part of May, just as old Rover and I were 
starting out for a day's fishing. The shrill whistle 
she gave was enough of a challenge for any boy and 
dog. So off we started full tilt in the direction of 
the sound. Of course Rover arrived first on the 
scene of action, and when I got there he stood thrust- 
ing his nose in at the entrance of the burrow, wagging 



The Woodchuck 7 

his tail vigorously and giving utterance to the short 
quick yelps so characteristic of a shepherd dog. The 
burrow gave evidence of constant use, and for a 
moment my attention was divided between the in- 
terests of hunting and fishing. However, as my game 
was in a convenient spot I decided to leave it for 
some future day's sport and make sure of the nsh. 
It was not so easy to bring Rover to my way of think- 
ing, but I finally coaxed him away from the fascinating 
spot. 

Fascinating indeed it surely proved to be to me, 
and more than one day's sport I got out of that little 
burrow. I took care, however, that Rover didn't go 
with me when I made my visits and, instead of digging 
out the inmates boy-fashion, I waited for them to 
come out of their own accord. Several times the old 
woodchuck appeared, but feeling sure that there 
were ''more to follow," I patiently watched and 
waited. Finally my patience was rewarded; for one 
fine morning five little cubs came tumbling after their 
mother along the narrow passage to the entrance of the 
burrow, where they looked with their great beautiful 
brown eyes upon the strange outside world. What 
a marvelous surprise it must have been to them to 
view the green grass and the beautiful flowers! The 
breeze brought to their dilated nostrils sweet odors 



8 The Woodchuck 

from the meadows, while a great burst of music 
saluted their ears, which were now really open for 
the first time. The wrens were singing in the old 
apple tree; the bobolinks were "running down" 
their " brooks of laughter" through the air; the 
meadow larks were whistling on all sides, while 
myriads of insects added their murmuring music to 
the general symphony. 

The mother knew that all of these sounds were 
only a part of her world and meant no harm, but 
she listened very attentively for any unusual sound be- 
fore she ventured from the entrance. When satisfied 
that there was no danger lurking in the fair clover 
fields or in the blossoming apple trees above, she 
led the way into the grass, followed by her little brood, 
which tumbled frantically along in their haste to 
keep close to her. They tried to imitate her in every- 
thing, and when she nibbled a clover leaf they fol- 
lowed her example, and soon the sharp little teeth 
had learned to cut the juicy leaves. 

The real object of their first outing, that of filling 
their little stomachs, was soon accomplished, and 
then they began playing about in the grass very 
much like puppies; but the watchful mother was 
careful not to let them wander far from the entrance 
of their home. Suddenly her trained ear caught the 



The Woodchuck 9 

sound of something approaching and she lost no 
time in hustling the little ones into the burrow, for 
it might be old Rover racing across the meadow, and 
possibly he would turn their way or wdnd them if 
he came close. Sure enough! they were scarcely safe 
when the dog appeared in full sight over a knoll, 
making straight for them! The cubs could have 
traveled only a part of the tunnel before they heard 
the deep breathing of the dog at the mouth of the 
burrow. The exertion and the excitement must have 
made their tiny hearts beat fast, as for the first time 
in their lives they learned what it is to be frightened. 

This was only the beginning of their education, for 
day after day they came out of their burrow and 
when they scrambled back, something had been 
added to their little stock of woodchuck knowledge. 
A part of this wisdom came through copying their 
mother, but by far the greater part came through 
instinct and through experiences of their own. They 
learned which grass was good for food, which for 
medicine, and which was not to be touched at all. 

Some attention was given to the art of climbing, 
for from elevated positions they could command a 
much more extended view of meadow and wood- 
land — yes, woodchucks really climb fences and small 
trees! and I found it extremely entertaining to 



io The Woodchuck 

watch their clumsy first attempts. This lesson in 
climbing, however, might sometimes be omitted, 
but never a day passed that the little woodchucks 
did not receive a lesson in danger signals. They soon 
learned to distinguish, among the many sounds that 
came to their ears, those that threatened harm and 
danger from those that meant no harm at all. Al- 
though Bob from the next farm nearly caught one 
of the little fellows, they learned that a dog was not 
a very dangerous foe, as his presence was usually 
made known while he was some distance off; but 
when a fox was in the vicinity — then was the time 
to be wary indeed! 

By the middle of August the little cubs were pretty 
nearly grown-up woodchucks, and the time was fast 
approaching when the frolicsome days of babyhood 
would be over and they would have to settle down 
to the serious business of life, either finding a de- 
serted burrow or digging one for themselves. It 
would have been interesting could I have watched 
the separation of this family and have known all the 
circumstances leading up to it, but they " stole a 
march" on me, and within a space of three days the 
old burrow had but one occupant, the mother. 

Usually each woodchuck has a burrow by itself, 
but occasionally a pair will live together through the 



The Woodchuck 1 1 

winter. Early in autumn I came upon such a pair 
not far from the summer home which had so interested 
me, and I pleased myself by imagining they were 
two of my old friends. The spot they had selected 
for their burrow was on a gentle sunny slope in one 
corner of the meadow. They had evidently been 
working, little by little, on the new burrow before 
they left the old one, but now they made a regular 
business of it and worked with a will. And rapid 
progress they made, for their feet are armed with 
powerful claws and there is a partial web between 
the toes, a combination which makes a most excel- 
lent pick and shovel. The fore feet are used princi- 
pally for digging and the hind ones for throwing 
backward the loosened earth and stones. 

For some distance from the entrance the burrow 
inclined downward quite sharply, then turned slightly- 
upward and continued along beneath the surface 
for a distance of fifteen feet ; this arrangement secured 
good drainage, which is all-important in the home of 
the woodchuck. There was a small side tunnel four 
feet long which ended in an exit, while the main 
burrow terminated in a chamber of considerable size, 
in which there was a quantity of fine grass for bedding. 

When the woodchucks had completed their home 
they were ready for housekeeping. The meadows 



1 2 The Woodchuck 

had been mown and a tempting new clover crop was 
spread before them. There was nothing to do now 
save to eat, bask in the golden autumn sunshine, and 
eat again. With a few weeks of this sort of life there 
came a wonderful change in their appearance; their 
cheeks were distended, their fur glossy, and their 
skins stretched with fatness. 

When September was well advanced, they could 
eat no more, and had only to wait and doze away the 
time until about the first week in October, when 
Mother Nature would put them sound asleep. The 
blood began to flow more slowly through their veins, 
a sleep crept gradually over them which they could 
not resist, and finally, side by side in their snug retreat, 
they curled themselves into balls of fur, and fell asleep. 

Warm summer days followed with their mellow light ; 
Indian summer came and went, but the slumber of 
the woodchucks was unbroken; and thus the cold 
cheerless winter passed in one long dream of summer. 




THE OPOSSUM 

I HE opossum is certainly the most dis- 
tinctive of the North American mammals, 
inasmuch as it is a marsupial. It seems 
rather strange that, among so many mammals, the 
opossum has neither kith nor kin. There was a time 
when the whole world was inhabited by marsupials, 
so those living to-day are the separated remnants of 
that once universal race. 

The range of the Virginia opossum is from the lati- 
tude of the southern part of New York State and 
Michigan, southward to Central America. It is very 
common in the South, and probably there is only one 
species, but certainly there is a great diversity among 
the individuals. 

The opossum is about the size of a large cat, its legs 

are short and its tail is long, scaly, and prehensile; 

its snout is long and somewhat pig-like, which accounts 

for the tremendous width it can open its jaws. The 

fur is of a general yellowish color, but on the back 

and sides a greater part of the hairs are tipped with 

*3 



14 The Opossum 

brown or black; intermingled is a liberal amount of 
pure white hairs. The brain cavity is small, but the 
senses of sight and smell are well developed. 

The opossum, although upon the whole a stupid 
animal, has one very clever habit, when attacked it 
simulates death most successfully. At such times the 
eyes are usually closed, the muscles are rigid, and 
no amount of rough handling will provoke any signs 
of life, until an opportunity for escape presents itself, 
when it will make all the haste of which a slow moving 
opossum is capable. The most effectual method of 
reviving the seemingly lifeless animal is to drop it 
into a pool of water. The shock of this unexpected 
procedure is apparently too much for it, and it speedily 
seeks the shore. The immersion usually ends the 
" playing 'possum," for it will not readily try the 
stratagem again. This art has probably saved many 
opossums from destruction by other animals, but the 
"coon" is fully up to the trick, and few deceiving 
opossums escape him. I have found the ruse of 
"playing 'possum" to be specific rather than general 
among the species. Those that are partly tamed seem 
never to practice it. 

The home of the opossum may be in a hollow tree, 
a crevice in the rocks, or under a building. The 
hollow tree, however, seems to be preferred. The 



The Opossum 15 

nest itself is composed of dried grass and 
leaves. 

The opossum usually comes forth from his retreat 
at the close of day, wandering about in search of 
food; he is no" strictly nocturnal, however, for cloudy 
days will often find him abroad, and I have seen him 
in the bright sunshine. 

His menu is varied, but you may be sure it is a 
full one when it can be obtained. It consists chiefly 
of insects, small reptiles, young birds, and birds' 
eggs. Occasionally he dines from the poultry yard, 
and here he shows a decided preference for young 
chickens. Vegetable food enters but little into his 
bill of fare, although he is very fond of ripe fruits 
of various kinds. 

The young, varying in number from six to twelve, 
are born in a very immature state — blind, hairless, 
and exceedingly small, in fact weighing but a few 
grains. The mother places the young in a pouch, 
where they are nourished and kept for about six weeks. 
After this they venture out and climb about over the 
body of the parent, clinging to her fur. Sometimes 
the mother arches her tail over her back, very much 
after the fashion of a squirrel, and the little ones 
cling to it by their prehensile tails, heads down, and 
feet just touching her back, presenting a curious sight 



1 6 The Opossum 

indeed. For a few weeks after they climb out of 
the pouch the young do not venture upon the ground, 
but return to the pouch for food and protection. 

I have not been able to photograph any of these 
young opossums, but a farmer, knowing that I was in- 
terested in photographing animals, helped me to get 
some pictures of the old ones. He sent me word that 
there were a number of opossums about his place and 
that when he discovered anything of special interest 
he would let me know. One morning I received word 
that an opossum was in the chicken house. Camera 
in hand I soon reached the spot and found that the 
opossum had just completed a full breakfast upon 
fresh eggs. Leading from the chicken house into the 
yard was a small door; I focused upon this and then 
opened it. The opossum slowly came forth, and 
when he was in full view I pressed the bulb, and 
the old robber was taken. 

The next week I was summoned again by the farmer 
and this time I photographed an opossum while he 
was feasting upon a nest of hen's eggs. 

But it is in the South, on his native heath, that 
the opossum reaches perfection and his greatest size. 
For him the glowing October sun, and the silvery 
frosts of November, have developed the delicious 
flavor and fragrance of the persimmon. Through all 



The Opossum 17 

the painted autumnal woods the opossum finds spread 
for him by the lavish hand of Nature this sumptuous 
banquet of golden fruit. From twilight until the 
approach of day, the greedy little creature feeds upon 
the persimmons. 

O, heedless opossum! Could you but see into the 
future you would not feed thus recklessly upon the 
the fruit, which in a few weeks must render you so 
temptingly fat! " 'Simmon" time brings in '"possum" 
time, and from many a cabin the melodious negro 
voices, accompanied by banjo, accordion, or harmoni- 
con, are heard singing: 

" ' Possum am a cunnin' thing, 
He rambles in de dark, 
Nothin' 'tall disturb his min' 
But to hyah my bulldog bark. " 

The hunting of the opossum in the South is usually 
done at night, the one important feature of the hunt 
being a good opossum dog. The opossum will take 
to a tree at the approach of the dog, and the dog 
should remain barking until the arrival of the hunting 
party. If the tree is not difficult to climb the opos- 
sum is soon captured, otherwise the tree must be 
felled or the game shot. The colored people enter 
into the sport with the greatest zest, and these hunting 
parties have merry times. 



1 8 The Opossum 

The hunting of the opossum in the North is more 
frequently done in the daytime. The hunt is usually 
confined to the edge of a forest or large timber along 
streams and the more numerous the hollow trees the 
better. I remember a hunt of this kind: I had been 
tramping about with my camera, and as I was passing 
through some large timber near a clearing on the 
Orange Mountains, I came upon an old colored man 
and a boy, who were carefully examining the trunk 
of a tree. I asked them what they were hunting for. 

■"'Possum," was the short answer. 

When the colored man, who, as I afterward learned, 
was familiarly known as "Uncle Robert," found that I 
was out after animal photographs, he granted me 
the privilege of joining the party. 

Uncle Robert's method of hunting the opossum 
was very simple; he knew of several hollow trees 
and from time to time visited them, occasionally 
finding an opossum. He was not very talkative at 
first, but gradually warmed up to the subject of opos- 
sum hunting, and told me that when he was a boy 
and lived in "Old Virginny, we all used to hunt de 
'possum and de 'coon, for dey bofe is mighty good to 
eat." 

While talking we were gradually making our way 
through the timber, and when we came to the edge 



The Opossum 19 

of the clearing Uncle Robert called a halt. Immedi- 
ately before us was an old hollow apple tree* The 
boy nimbly climbed to the hollow. 

One glance was enough and he exclaimed, "O 
Lord, Uncle Robert, a 'possum!" 

The cavity was a shallow one, and I succeeded in 
making a photograph before the opossum was re- 
moved from his snug nest. When removed he proved 
to be a large fat specimen, "'bout as good as down- 
South 'possum," Uncle Robert declared. 

The old man thought as long as I was taking photo- 
graphs it would be proper for me to photograph "de 
'possum and decoon togedder." A good idea! 




THE FOX 

( HE fox is called the slyest and most 
cunning of our common wild animals. 
From the time of earliest animal lore, to 
"old Reynard," have been ascribed attributes which 
would lead us to believe him to be endowed with 
something that many are unwilling to concede to the 
lower animals, — something that seems more than mere 
instinct, a something akin to reason. 

The fox is wily and cunning and sagacious, to 
such a degree that he taxes to the utmost the ability 
of our best huntsmen. Even with the aid of trained 
hounds and with a knowledge of the runway of the 
fox, the sportsmen are often eluded and outwitted by 
the artful Reynard. Traps, deadfalls, and all sorts 
of devices are used for his capture, and his ability to 
escape them can but command a certain respect from 
his human pursuers, a respect which cannot be felt 
for an animal like the opossum. 

In the shadowy depths of his mother's burrow, the 

baby fox first opens his eyes upon a world in which 

20 




X 

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W 

H 
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W 

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The Fox 21 

his part is to be a continual struggle; struggle not 
only for daily sustenance, but a struggle to escape the 
snares and pitfalls laid for him by his arch enemy — 
man. Among the fox kindred it is a survival of 
the fittest, combined with a wonderful development 
of hereditary habit, which has fostered, and in some 
cases multiplied, their race. 

When pursued by a hound, the fox may deceive it 
in several ways, such as doubling on his trail, walking 
on fences, or wading in shallow water. The last ruse 
is by far the most effective. Nevertheless the hunting 
of the fox is most successfully accomplished by means 
of the hound. In the Northern States the hunting 
season begins in November; but the real sport comes 
a little later, when the ground is covered with a light 
snow, for then the hound can follow the trail more 
easily. A trail must be fresh if a dog is to follow it 
over the frozen ground with any degree of speed, 
and on a ploughed field it is almost hopeless. 

Perhaps a few reminiscences of fox hunting will 
serve, better than anything else, to give those unac- 
quainted with this clever animal clearer notions as to 
the scope of fox sagacity: — To begin with, it should 
be borne in mind that foxes, unless old and experienced 
in guile, will not, when hounded, run far away on 
a straight course, but will circle near the home where 



22 The Fox 

they were reared. It is also well to know that foxes 
have certain runways through valleys and across 
hills, through swamps and along water courses, and 
that these are followed more or less regularly by the 
fox, either when pursued or when quietly moving 
from place to place in search of food. This fact is 
taken advantage of by hunters, and the runways must 
be located before success in the hunt can be expected. 
In the fall of 1880 foxes were very plentiful in the 
State of New York on the hills between the Una- 
dilla and Chenango rivers. There was scarcely any 
snow until late in November, and when it did come 
it was very dry, the wind blowing it from the fields 
and hill tops, and drifting it along the fences. Not- 
withstanding the bareness of the fields, thoughts of 
the old time sport tempted the more adventurous 
hunters. Two of these enthusiastic Nimrods set 
forth with a well trained hound before the snow had 
stopped sifting about even in the less exposed places. 
The hound soon struck a trail, and as the track was 
fresh he seemed to fly over the snow. The deep 
toned baying sent the blood tingling through the 
veins of both pursuer and pursued. The first hunt 
of the season was really on! The men took positions 
of vantage on the supposed runway, watching and 
listening carefully for the expected game. Meanwhile 



The Fox 23 

the hound had gone quite out of hearing to the north. 
An hour passed and no fox appeared. Nothing was 
heard save the baying of the hound far away to the 
east. In half an hour the fox appeared in a valley, 
over which the hunters commanded a distinct view. 
As the fox could not take to the water in the frozen 
streams, he tried another trick which worked admira- 
bly. It was this: Within the valley and in sight of 
the hunters were two ploughed fields, each containing 
a marked elevation. The wind had swept these higher 
areas completely bare of snow and loosened bits of 
earth had rolled away, until the surfaces were quite 
smooth. The runway of the fox may have been 
across these wind-swept places. Be that as it may, 
the fox crossed each in turn. When the hound came 
upon the first place he lost the trail for a time, but 
finding it, proceeded to the second. The fox, instead 
of continuing his course as would naturally be ex- 
pected, returned to the first by a circuitous route and 
then again to the second. He repeated this manoeu- 
vre three times, taking the same course each time, 
finally quitting the game by turning sharply to the 
left, and making off to the south, leaving behind him 
a most weary and perplexed dog. 

At another time a fox was seen to follow a rail 
fence for about forty rods, nearly in the opposite 



24 The Fox 

direction from that in which he had been traveling; 
he then jumped from the fence upon the ice of a 
small creek. By this ruse he succeeded in completely 
eluding the hounds. 

If the fox is an old one and has often been before the 
hounds, he tries in succession several blocks to the 
trail, thus gaining time and tiring the dogs. I once 
knew a fox to throw the hound from the trail by 
taking to the highway for a distance, passing among 
a large number of cows feeding about a stack, and 
finally walking a fence; all this within half a mile. 
Why did the fox go among the cows ? Did he reason 
that his passage would scarcely be noticed, whereas 
the hound would create quite a disturbance among 
the cattle, — enough disturbance to confuse him and 
perhaps cause him to lose the trail? Since the fox 
was far in advance of the hound and there was no 
immediate need for such an unusual act, and knowing 
as I do the cunning of Reynard, I am led to believe 
that this move was not entirely accidental. 

I knew one fox to enter a village while being 
pursued; another ran into a large barn by one door 
and out through another on the opposite side; and 
still a third crossed the dooryard of a farmhouse 
and went upon the porch where a man was stand- 
ing, actually crouching nearly exhausted at his feet 



The Fox 25 

as though begging protection from the relentless 
hound. 

When the snow is soft and deep the dog with his 
longer legs has the advantage, and sometimes the 
fox is overtaken and killed. At such times, I ob- 
served, the majority of foxes seemed to realize their 
great disadvantage, usually keeping so near to their 
burrows that, when hard pressed by the hounds, they 
could "hole up" as a last resort. 

Let us look at some of the common methods em- 
ployed by hunters in securing foxes that "hole up." 
The fox may be "dug out." This is serious business 
for a hunter when the ground is frozen to the depth 
of two feet or more, but if he decides that this is the 
thing to be done, he borrows a pick and shovel from 
some near by farmhouse. If the "boys" are at home, 
the wise old hunter incidentally mentions that he has 
"holed" a fox, and at once he has assistants at his 
command. Before the digging begins a slender green 
stick is cut, with which the direction of the burrow 
is determined, and a pit is sunk some four or five 
feet from the entrance. Then another bearing is 
taken and a second pit is sunk, and by this means 
much labor is saved. Sometimes a divide in the bur- 
row is discovered, but the dog usually determines in 
which one the fox is hiding; at other times the fox 



26 The Fox 

may be heard digging, and his whereabouts is thus 
disclosed. The scene now becomes one of great 
excitement for the boys and dogs, each getting in 
the way of the other, and delaying the capture. If 
no large stone or root interferes, the fox is soon ex- 
posed, and is usually seized and despatched by one 
of the dogs. 

Another method of ferreting the fox, when rocks and 
stones make digging impossible, is that of "smoking 
him out." Dry punk is set on fire and, when burning 
well, is forced some three or four feet into the entrance 
of the burrow. Through the lack of sufficient air, 
quite a quantity of smoke and gases is formed, which 
after a time becomes diffused through the remotest 
parts of the burrow. This is a new enemy to the 
bewildered fox, and one on which his usual cunning 
has little effect. In his last desperate effort to escape, 
he tries to gain the entrance of his burrow, but falls 
exhausted near the smouldering heap that not only 
blocks his way, but is pouring forth its deadly fumes. 
After about two hours the remaining mass is raked 
out and a slender, slightly forked stick inserted and 
twisted about. In so doing the end usually becomes 
entangled in the fur of the fox and he is then easily 
drawn to the entrance of the burrow. 

Still another method of capture is sometimes at- 



The Fox 27 

tempted, that of " drowning out the fox," but this 
is seldom successful. It requires a large quantity of 
water, and often the soil is so porous that before the 
second supply can be added the first has been absorbed. 

But we must not forget that these " holes" are 
interesting from another point of view, besides that 
of the hunter — they are the homes of the foxes. 
Here, during the springtime, on a soft bed of grass 
and leaves the fox babies are born. They are lively 
little fellows, varying in number from three to seven. 
So rapidly do they grow that the amount of labor 
expended in procuring food for them is great. The 
parent foxes must hunt day and night. At such times 
the female becomes daring, and has even been known 
to invade farmyards and capture poultry in the day- 
time. 

I have become acquainted with several fox families, 
and very much have I enjoyed their friendship. All 
but one of these families were allowed to rear their 
young; the exception being in the case of a pair so 
destructive that they were dug out, and the young 
kept as pets. I wish to speak in particular of this 
family, not that they differed so much from others, 
but because I knew them better. 

It was in an open pasture, during the first week in 
May, that I discovered their den. During the spring 



28 The Fox 

four or five hens had mysteriously disappeared, and 
one day I saw a fox not far from the barn. There 
was nothing remarkable in this except that the fox 
was the darkest in color I had ever seen, outside the 
black species. The disappearance of the hens was 
now no mystery, a den of foxes being less than a 
quarter of a mile away. Such being the case, I 
began at once to cultivate the acquaintance of the 
family. In the parents I expected to find the ordinary 
red-fox variety, so common about the region; but 
one of them was extremely dark in color. 

The entrance to the den looked like a very large 
woodchuck's burrow, save that it bore evidence of 
more constant use, and that scattered about were bits 
of fur and feathers of various kinds. 

The first time I visited the burrow I did not see 
any foxes. After this, whenever I was near the bur- 
row the darker colored of the old foxes was usually 
to be seen on a knoll not far away, sitting dog-fashion 
and occasionally uttering a sharp bark. I seldom 
saw the red fox, which I supposed to be the male, 
unless a dog accompanied me. In that case the 
darker fox would retire and the red one would come 
closer, apparently inviting the dog to a chase. How- 
ever, since the dog was not a fox hound, he would 
soon return, only to be provoked again by the near 



The Fox 29 

approach of the fox. I watched this most interesting 
strategy several times, but not being entirely satisfied, 
I chose a hound instead of a shepherd dog and, keep- 
ing firm hold upon the chain, I approached the den, 
resolved to study the situation, until I could ascer- 
tain the meaning of the peculiar behavior of the 
foxes. 

The red fox behaved exactly as before — approach- 
ing in plain sight and, when the dog was loosed, 
leading him on a " straightaway." In a short time 
the distant baying of the hound could no longer be 
heard. Not until the next morning did he return. 
For my own satisfaction and for that of those who 
are interested in fox lore, I repeated the experiment 
three times within ten days, with the same results. 

On one occasion I took the hound to the knoll 
which was so often frequented by the female fox. 
Away he went on a fresh trail to the south. At inter- 
vals I could catch his baying, as he emerged into a 
clearing or passed over an eminence. After twenty 
minutes these sounds failed to reach my ear. During 
this time I had remained seated on the knoll from 
which the hound started. Imagine my surprise when, 
on hearing a fox bark, I turned and saw the dark 
colored fox standing not more than twenty rods 
from me! What did this mean? I was now at very 



30 The Fox 

nearly the spot from which the fox had started less 
than half an hour before. The hound had taken the 
trail at this point, and had gone to the south — and 
here the fox was back again! 

For two hours I remained near the den, but nothing 
was to be seen of the dog. Toward evening he 
returned home. Knowing the cunning of foxes, and 
believing that they can reason in a general way, I was 
curious to learn more about them. Accordingly on 
the third day succeeding the incident of the saga- 
cious female fox, I led the hound near the den and 
put him upon her trail. As far as I could judge, 
they passed over the same course as before; the fox 
appearing after about the same lapse of time, taking 
up her station near the den, where she remained for 
a short time and then disappeared. I went home in 
about an hour, and the hound was not heard again that 
day; but in the morning he was resting on the door- 
mat, apparently as happy as though an old fox had 
not fooled him. 

This, with other data, furnished me material for 
serious thought in regard to this foxy family. Having 
satisfied myself sufficiently, as I believed, to warrant 
conclusions, I once more repeated the experiment with 
the hound and the female fox, with practically identi- 
cal results. 



The Fox 31 

From these experiments it seems reasonable to 
believe that, while the young are in the burrow and 
unable to care for themselves, it is the business of 
the male fox to keep dogs away from the den by 
leading them on "straightaways." I am led firmly 
to believe, also, that if the dog strikes the trail of the 
female fox, the male in some way crosses off the female, 
taking upon himself the burden of the chase. Cer- 
tainly the cases I have cited point to this conclusion. 

The duty of providing food for the young foxes does 
not rest entirely with the female, although the real 
responsibility seems to be hers. At all events, when 
food becomes scarce, it is the mother fox that, even 
in the light of day, and almost in the presence of man 
and dog, will venture near enough to the barns to catch 
a fowl for her starving little ones. 

This condition of home affairs is true not only of 
this fox family, but of all others which I have ob- 
served, and I have reason to believe that it is usual 
among foxes. In other animal families similar re- 
sults have been observed. As has been stated, foxes 
raised in a certain locality usually remain near home, 
probably bringing up their own young within a few 
miles of the parent den. So, too, with pumas. A 
single family lives within a given territory and the 
male and female, as a rule, hunt separately, as do the 



32 The Fox 

parent foxes. The female puma is a far better hunter 
than the male, and when hard pressed for food for 
her young she becomes very bold and daring. Yet 
in proportion to her size and strength she does not 
surpass the mother fox. 

A division of labor between parents is not a fact 
among the mammals solely; it is common among 
birds — among some the division being quite equal, 
while with others it is very unequal. 

This division of care for the little ones of a family 
must be excellent domestic economy. Certainly my 
little fox friends were the fattest and glossiest little 
fellows imaginable. There were six of them, four 
red and two darker colored ones. It was most 
interesting to watch these little fellows at play; they 
would chase each other about, rolling and tumbling, 
tugging over bits of sticks, or sometimes over their 
food, and jumping about their mother, especially 
when she was lying upon the grass. Sometimes the 
mother fox would play with them much after the 
fashion of a dog. Twice I saw the male fox at the den. 

We are told that sometimes live mice and occasion- 
ally other animals are brought to the den for the 
little foxes to play with and later to feast upon. Only 
once did I see anything of this kind, the victim in 
this instance being a young woodchuck. It was 



The Fox 33 

evident from the woodchuck's movements that the 
mother fox had not injured the prey. It was amus- 
ing to see the antics of the young foxes. They were 
very cautious at first in their approach. Sometimes 
in their haste to retreat they fell over each other as 
the woodchuck made a dash for them. The old fox 
had to recapture the woodchuck several times and 
on the last occasion killed it, whereupon the little ones 
enjoyed a good feast. 

I have yet to know a den of foxes that so regularly 
and systematically drew for its supply of food upon 
one poultry yard as did this one. The fowls being 
allowed to run at large, the ducks and hens and par- 
ticularly the turkeys often strayed some little distance 
away. A greater part of the missing fowls were 
taken during the day, for at night they were shut in 
the poultry house, or, as in the case of the turkeys, 
were out of harm's way, high in the trees near the 
garden. Matters went from bad to worse. And when 
my favorite Dorking cock was served to the young 
foxes, it was too much! Straightway the foxes were 
dug out and the young were given away as pets. The 
old foxes were not killed, but after the day the young 
were taken I do not know that I saw the parents 
again. At dusk that evening I saw a shadowy form 
near the little house which had been prepared for one 



34 The Fox 

of the young foxes. For several nights the barking 
of foxes was heard not far away, and sometimes the 
little captive made bold to answer. Through worry 
and confinement, and perhaps improper food, the 
little fox quickly lost his plumpness and the glossi- 
ness of fur. One morning a dead partridge was 
found beside his prison door, probably killed and 
brought there by the mother fox. Purposely, on the 
following evening the collar of the imprisoned fox 
was gently loosened, and the door of his house left 
ajar. In the morning the collar lay beside the door, 
and I imagined that the little fellow was safe with his 
mother among the hills. 

I learned in the following autumn that two more 
of the young foxes escaped. I hoped that they would 
journey back to the valley in which they were born, 
never again to be trammelled by collar and chain. 




THE WHITE-FOOTED MOUSE 

[HE white-footed mouse is by far the most 
beautiful species of the genus to which 
it belongs. Indeed it is almost a shame 
to call this handsome creature a mouse at all! He 
is almost a dandy in dress and neatness, and his 
spotless robe of grayish fawn above is sharply con- 
trasted with the pure white beneath. This, coupled 
with the natural grace and agility of its movements, 
distinguishes the white-footed mouse as one of our 
most attractive little mammals. 

Combined with this grace and beauty there is a 
gentleness of disposition reminding one of the flying 
squirrel — indeed it is said that these two little wood- 
dwellers are sometimes found living in the same cavity. 
An adult white-footed mouse when captured wild will 
seldom bite if taken in the hand, and after two or 
three days of confinement it is as gentle and confiding 
as though it had been born in captivity. 

The home of the white-footed mouse is occasionally 

found in deep forests of evergreens or deciduous 

35 



36 The White-Footed Mouse 

trees; but its usual abode is along hedgerows, in the 
fields, or even in dwellings about well wooded sections 
of the country. The hunter's camp is very sure to 
be visited by them, and sometimes their friendliness 
becomes a burden. While their usual food is nuts 
and seeds of various kinds, they soon learn to eat 
almost anything about the camp. These little fellows 
show a most surprising capacity for food, and when once 
a hungry hord of them takes possession of the camp, 
well may the hunters and trappers look carefully after 
their stock of provisions; for when the snow lies deep 
through the forest and the nearest store is forty miles 
away, then is every ounce of flour and meal precious. 

This little rodent has sharp teeth which sometimes 
he uses in a careless and inconsiderate manner; cord, 
fish line, hunting tackle of various kinds, and even 
snares set for other animals are cut to pieces. The 
trap is often sprung and the bait w T hich might have 
caught a mink or marten has been devoured by this 
small midnight marauder. 

Under favorable circumstances the white-footed 
mouse stores up considerable quantities of beechnuts 
for winter use. These seem to be his favorite nuts. 
Occasionally, when nuts are not attainable, seeds and 
grains of various kinds are stored. The nuts are 
usually shucked when gathered, at least this has been 




White-footed Mouse 



The White-Footed Mouse 37 

my observation, and placed in a hollow of a tree or 
log. Woodsmen often find these stores of nuts. 
Several years ago I found a storehouse of some white- 
footed mice in a cavity of a maple tree. There were 
nearly three and a half quarts of as beautifully shucked 
beechnuts as one w r ould wish to see. Only last year 
I found in a stump another storehouse, containing a 
quart of beechnuts and an equal amount of buck- 
wheat. 

The white-footed mouse, like some of the squirrels, 
constructs an outside nest, in thick tangles of bushes, 
from four to ten feet above the ground. The favorite 
location seems to be about some gently inclined vine, 
such as the wild grape, which affords a natural and 
easy highway from the ground to the home of the wee 
architect. The nests are slightly globular in shape, 
and composed of dried leaves, grasses, moss, and 
fibrous barks of various kinds, the material being 
closely compacted and the general appearance very 
pleasing. The entrance is usually on the lower side. 
Sometimes the foundation is an old bird's nest, very 
often that of the catbird. I once found a nest that 
was fifteen inches in length and about eight inches in 
diameter, this being the most irregular in shape as 
well as the largest one that I ever saw. 

Occasionally several mice will occupy the same nest, 



38 The White-Footed Mouse 

and if disturbed they hasten out, making their way 
along the branches to the ground. If the disturbance 
is slight, they come out upon the branches, gaze about 
on all sides and gently sniff the air, not returning 
until they are satisfied that all danger has passed. 

Among the various species of mice there has been 
found from time to time the " singing mouse," and 
even among the white-footed variety it is no exception, 
according to a note that appeared in the American 
Naturalist several years ago by Mr. Hiskey, who 
wrote as follows : 

"I was sitting a few evenings since, not far from a 
half -open closet door, when I was startled by a sound 
issuing from the closet, of such marvelous beauty 
that I at once asked my wife how Bobbie Burns (our 
canary) had found his way into the closet, and what 
could start him to singing such a queer and sweet song 
in the dark. I procured a light, and found it to be a 
mouse! He had filled an overshoe from a basket of 
popcorn which had been popped and placed in the 
closet in the morning. Whether this rare collection of 
food inspired him with song I know not, but I had 
not the heart to disturb his corn, hoping to hear from 
him again. Last night his song was renewed. I ap- 
proached with a subdued light and with great caution, 
and had the pleasure of seeing him sitting among his 



The White-Footed Mouse 39 

corn and singing his beautiful solo. I observed him 
without interruption for ten minutes, not over four 
feet from him. His song was not a chirp, but a con- 
tinuous song of musical tone, a kind of to-wit-to-wee- 
woo-woo-wee-woo, quite varied in pitch. " 

This does not mean necessarily that the white- 
footed mice as a species are musical or that they have 
any considerable vocal power. I believe, on the con- 
trary, that they are nearer mutes — attracting attention 
by drumming with their toes, a habit similar to the 
"thumping" of rabbits. 

In spite of midnight revels and feasts upon beech- 
nuts and grain, the existence of the white-footed 
mouse is one of eternal and anxious vigilance; its 
bright eyes must be ever on the watch for the shadow 
of hawk and owl, whose descent means swift and 
silent death; its sharp ears must be ever listening 
for the slightest stirring among the leaves, which may 
herald the coming of its dread enemy — the weasel. 

I was once passing through a thicket, when an 
unfamiliar sound caused me to stop to listen. Peer- 
ing through the brush I discovered a screech owl 
standing on the side of an old bird's nest, only a 
short distance ahead of me. It was after sundown, 
but the light was sufficient to enable me to see objects 
quite distinctly some distance away. The little owl 



40 The White-Footed Mouse 

was absorbed in tearing apart what at first sight I 
supposed to be the bird's nest. So intently was he 
engaged in this task that I approached unobserved, 
and when within thirty feet of the bird I discovered 
that a white-footed mouse had placed his home on 
the top of the bird's nest. The owl evidently knew 
that it was the abode of a mouse, for he was opening 
the nest by using both his beak and claws. Sud- 
denly a white-footed mouse sprang clear of the nest, 
which was not more than four and a half feet above 
the ground, and struck upon the dried leaves below. 
Instantly the screech owl dropped upon him and 
bore him away in his talons to some evergreens near by. 
This was the only time that I ever caught the screech 
owL in the act of hunting the white-footed mouse. 

As a pet the white-footed mouse is very interesting. 
In captivity it resembles in many ways the flying 
squirrel, especially in its fondness for climbing about 
your person and hiding in your pockets. 




THE GRAY SQUIRREL 

TEADILY the forests have been felled, 
and with them the gray squirrels have 
gradually disappeared, until their num- 
bers have so decreased that for a hundred and fifty 
years .here has not occurred one of those great 
squirrel migrations so common in the United States 
during the time of the early settlers. Guided by 
an impulse still unfathomed by naturalists, the 
squirrels congregated in vast armies and marched 
across the country. The distance over which they 
moved was largely governed by the obstacles which 
they encountered — rivers, lakes, and mountains. The 
climatic conditions and the food supply by the way, 
according as they were favorable or unfavorable, 
lengthened or shortened these migrations. As the 
squirrels pushed blindly forward, thousands upon 
thousands perished by the way, and the survivors 
gradually spread over a great territory, until lost in 
the vast wilderness. 

Years might elapse before another great migration 

41 



42 The Gray Squirrel 

would occur over the same route, but parts might 
be crossed by other migrations starting from different 
points. Then there were the lesser migrations, with 
fewer numbers — caused by a failure of nuts in certain 
sections — that extended over distances from sixty to 
two hundred miles. Everywhere the squirrels left 
desolation behind them in the path of these migra- 
tions, the nut, fruit, and grain crops being sometimes 
ruined. So destructive were they that we find on the 
statute books in many States rewards offered for each 
gray squirrel killed. 

Every man's hand was against them, and through- 
out the whole year they were shot and trapped when- 
ever possible. In addition to this, regular hunts were 
organized, in which the w T hole male population took 
part, hundreds of squirrels being killed in a single day. 

On a small scale these squirrel hunts were quite 
common in Central New York as recently as 1840, 
and even to this day they occur in parts of the 
country. My great-uncle, Wesley H. Lottridge, de- 
scribed to me one of these hunts, in which he partici- 
pated. 

The hunt took place in the town of Columbus, New 
York, in the month of October, 1850. My uncle 
was appointed captain on one side, and " Uncle " 
John Richer, captain of the other. According to 



The Gray Squirrel 43 

the rules, by a certain date each captain posted in the 
village inn a list of his men, consisting of nine besides 
himself. On the day of the hunt the participants started 
as early in the morning as they pleased, but ceased shoot- 
ing at the disappearance of the last rays of the sun. The 
hunters then collected at the inn, where the squirrels 
were counted by judges, and the men sat down to 
a banquet in the preparation of which quantity was 
even more to be considered than quality; for the 
men were literally as hungry as hunters, having worked 
hard with only a cold lunch since breakfast. The 
party having the smaller count paid the bill of all. 

These hunts were similar to the wild pigeon hunts 
of sixty years ago, and to the jack rabbit hunts of 
the West. 

The presence or absence of the gray squirrels, or 
black, which is a color variation of the same species, 
depends upon the nut crop. They are the most 
abundant, strange to say, when the nut crop is a 
failure, which happens about every other year. This 
is accounted for by the fact that contiguous districts 
the fall before were without nuts, and so the squirrels 
went into the adjoining region where the nuts were 
plentiful. Here there would be enough for all until 
the addition of the young in the spring, which would 
increase the number of squirrels above the normal. 



44 The Gray Squirrel 

Toward autumn, the nut crop being a failure in 
this district, the squirrels migrated into regions round 
about where food might be found. 

The home of the gray squirrel is usually to be 
found in a hollow in a maple, birch, or beech, with 
the entrance among the branches forty to sixty feet from 
the ground. This is the real home, although often 
in the spring a summer house is constructed. This 
is generally located in the same tree with the other 
home, so that if the squirrels become frightened, they 
may run for shelter to the more secure dwelling in 
the hole of the tree. This second home may be 
for convenience during the time that the young are 
being reared ; perhaps it is built for sanitary reasons ; 
the temperature may be very much less during the 
hot weather ; or it may be a pleasure house to them, a 
sort of tenting-out period that is so much enjoyed by 
some of the higher animals. Who knows? The ma- 
terial of the summer house varies considerably, but 
it consists chiefly of sticks, bark, leaves, with a lining 
of grasses or some other material. The entrance is 
on the side, the nest from below resembling that of 
a crow. 

The gray squirrels do not lay up for winter use 
quantities of nuts or other food, as do the chipmunks, 
for they do not hibernate ; but when the weather is not 



The Gray Squirrel 45 

severe they are abroad during the winter. However, 
the gray squirrel, in common with most of our other 
squirrels, has the habit of digging holes and hiding 
a nut or two here and there. It has been argued that 
this is an idle pastime, and that nuts so concealed in 
many places could never again be located by the 
squirrel, but it must be remembered that the sense of 
smell in the squirrel is very acute, probably guiding 
the animal far more than memory. It must be this 
wonderful sense of smell that directs the squirrel 
where to dig in the snow, securing from beneath the 
leaves the nuts that were buried weeks before; or 
that guides him to a solitary nut tree or to the grain 
in a barn. 

This stored food constitutes only a part of the 
gray squirrel's winter supply. The other part he must 
scurry about to find. The beech trees and some 
others do not drop all of their nuts at the approach 
of winter. There still hang a few solitary nuts on 
each tree, and through a large beech forest the number 
so left is considerable. But the gray squirrel is not 
the only claimant for the nuts : the red squirrels and 
the red headed woodpeckers demanding for themselves 
the lion's share. The birds seem to think that these 
nuts are exclusively their property, and vigorously do 
they protest if a squirrel appears. One determined 



46 The Gray Squirrel ■ 

red headed woodpecker will sometimes put a gray 
squirrel scampering after a few moments, for the 
blows from that long sharp bill of his are severe. The 
squirrels, being the earlier risers, are often feasting 
when the birds appear, but they beat a hasty retreat 
before these tricolored warriors. 

The gray squirrel has other enemies in feathers, 
such as the goshawk and the red tailed hawk. A 
single hawk, however, can scarcely catch a gray 
squirrel, especially if the squirrel remains on the tree 
trunk, which he probably will be wise enough to do, 
thus being enabled, by dodging, to evade the hawk's 
claws. I never witnessed an encounter of this kind 
but once, and certainly the squirrel w r as "up to the 
trick"; for he eluded the hawk in the most exasperat- 
ing manner, chattering and barking the while in a 
most impudent tone, " Qua- qua- qua- qua- qua- a- a" 
The hawk was angry, the feathers on its head and 
neck being ruffled as was its spirit. At last it was 
obliged to retire, leaving the squirrel at his nutting. 
I have been informed, however, that the squirrel does 
not always get off so nicely, for sometimes the red- 
tails hunt in pairs, and then the squirrel has no chance 
for his life. 

Gray squirrels are very fond of music, says Dr. C. 
Hart Merriam. The doctor in speaking of this men- 



The Gray Squirrel 47 

tions his experiments with some squirrels which fre- 
quented a box of nuts that his father supplied for 
them during the winter. As I have never myself 
observed this, I wish to quote from this eminent 
authority: 

"They were extremely fond of music, and it affected 
them in a peculiar manner. Some were not only 
fascinated, but actually spellbound, by the music -box 
or guitar. And one particularly weak minded indi- 
vidual was so unrefined in his taste that if I advanced 
slowly, whistling 'Just before the Battle, Mother/ 
in as pathetic a tone as I could muster for the occa- 
sion, he would permit me even to stroke his back, 
somet'mes expressing his pleasure by making a low 
purring sound. This was a Gray, and I several times 
approached and stroked him as above described. I 
once succeeded in getting near enough to a Black to 
touch him, whereupon he instantly came to his senses 
and fled. When listening to music, they all acted in 
very much the same way. They all sat bolt upright, 
inclining a little forward (and if eating a nut, were 
sure to drop it), letting the fore paws hang listlessly 
over the breast, and, turning the head to one side in 
a bewildered sort of a way, assumed a most idiotic 
expression. " 

From August until November we may become 



48 The Gray Squirrel 

acquainted with the gray squirrel family as a whole. 
It is at this time that the old and the young may be 
seen early in the morning coming from the hard wood 
grove, along the old rail fence to the butternut trees 
at the foot of the garden. If you are on the watch, 
you may observe the silent troop galloping along 
with their beautiful tails well arched, and mounting 
the trees more like shadows than like wearers of 
fur. The frost has not yet loosened the nuts, but the 
squirrels are not daunted; speedily securing nuts, they 
sit upon the limbs with their tails over their backs, 
and, holding the nuts between their paws, quickly 
gnaw through the velvety covering and shuck to the 
juicy meat inside. Within an hour they go galloping 
back as though they had already stayed too long, 
silent as when they came; but if you do not see them, 
the telltale shucks will disclose who your visitors 
have been. 

The old butternut trees must soon share with the 
cornfield their attraction for the squirrels. It was the 
raccoons who first discovered that green corn was in 
season, but the squirrels claim their part, and on 
some fence rail or post you may find a daintily stripped 
cob, left there as a reminder that the squirrels too are 
to share in the increase. Better still, perchance, you 
may wander by and surprise the reveler at his feast. 




In the ( 



The Gray Squirrel 49 

There is an old orchard that I have known for 
years, where the gray squirrels have a regular play- 
ground in the autumn. It is connected with a piece 
of woods by a fence, and this fence is the grand high- 
way of all the squirrel tribe. During their earlier 
visits to the orchard they come and go silently as if 
on wing. When most of the apples are gathered, 
and the frost has touched the leaves, leaving them sere 
and russet, there is in the atmosphere a crispness 
which has awakened the rollicking spirit in the gray 
squirrels. No longer do they follow the old fence, 
but cut across lots, chasing each other in and out, 
now on this side, now on that, on the way to the tree 
tops in the orchard. Here, while searching for food 
in the first light of the morning, they frolic, leaping 
from branch to branch, and chattering and scolding 
like a lot of magpies. If left undisturbed, they re- 
main until the sun is more than an hour high, when 
they begin to retreat to their forest homes in the 
same jubilant manner in which they came. On 
reaching the forest, for another half hour they race 
through the tree tops before retiring. 

If perchance, having found your way into the 
forest before them to await their coming, you disturb 
them in their frolic, they will instantly vanish from 
sight behind the tree trunks or the shielding branches. 



50 The Gray Squirrel 

You walk around a tree on which you saw a squirrel 
a moment before, and you set in motion squirrels about 
you; they move as you move, keeping ever a tree 
trunk or a limb between you and them. If you are 
accustomed to the ways of wood folk, you will sit down 
and keep your eyes and ears open. In the stillness 
you will detect, after a little time, a slight shaking of 
the leaves, or catch a glimpse of a gray shadowy 
coat now flecked by the sun, but almost invisible 
against the moss and bark of the maples. These 
shadows are the squirrels, furtively seeking their 
retreats. You may be resting under a tree in which 
there is a wan' old gray squirrel, still some distance 
from his home. Do not for a moment think that he 
will leave the protection of the large limb on which 
he is reclining, and expose himself to view. There 
he will lie for hours until, weary in well-watching; you 
leave him that you may seek some less wise one. 

During the remainder of the morning and until late 
afternoon, the squirrels stay in their homes. Then 
they are out again for their evening meal, but without 
the same joyousness with which they greet the dawn. 

An early morning hour with the gray squirrels is 
as fascinating as it is to surprise them upon their 
return from the old orchard. It requires a morning 
with a heavy dew and absolutely without a breeze. 



The Gray Squirrel 51 

Before daybreak you must cross the threshold of 
their forest home, and resting upon some log or 
mossy knoll near their exit, await their coming. Your 
ears will serve you better than your eyes. At the 
first rosy dawn in the east, the squirrels from the 
outlying districts mount into the tree tops and begin 
their travel toward you. Their coming is first made 
known by a slight noise on the ground, but if you 
try to locate them by ear, you may be misled; for 
where everything is so still, a slight sound may be 
heard many rods away, through the large timbered 
forest. Before you have determined the cause of the 
first sound, or before you have fairly located it, another 
is heard in a different direction. You are all attention! 
A regular tattoo of these sounds is now heard on 
the forest floor, caused by the tiny showers of dew 
shaken from the leaves, as the squirrels leap from 
the end of one slender branch to the next. Soon 
your eyes begin to take part in the scene, as the grace- 
ful forms scurry through the leafy arches overhead. 
In a little while the gray troop have passed on their 
way to the orchard. 

If our homes are conveniently situated, the gray 
squirrels will visit us during the winter and spring. 
If we tempt them with a little food, they will come 
both morning and afternoon, when the weather is not 



52 The Gray Squirrel 

too cold or stormy. This step taken, it is easy to 
become quite intimately acquainted with our little 
friends in fur. Out of a company of five grays that 
were accustomed to visit a certain tree, where food 
was placed for them., there was one larger than any 
of the others, and supporting a most magnificent 
tail. He became very tame, and appeared to be so 
vain over his fine appearance that I photographed 
him one morning while he was having breakfast. 

For the protection of these beautiful mammals we 
have laws ; but all the laws in Christendom, however 
well enforced, cannot prevent animals that naturally 
make their homes among the larger timber from 
leaving when the forests are destroyed. It is a pity 
that, with our boasted civilization, there seems to be 
such a wanton destruction of our trees. It may be 
the heredity of habit that drives us madly on to denude 
the hills and mountains, thus leaving them bare, un- 
sightly, and untenanted. The result is invariably 
the same, to dry up our springs and streams and to 
drive from us the gray squirrels and other animals. 
If this continues for another twenty years, as it has 
for the past twenty, the gray squirrels will be counted 
among our rare animals. In Central New York 
I have seen but one black squirrel in the last ten 




C 

o 

w 
H 



The Gray Squirrel 53 

years. West of the Great Lakes both grays and 
blacks are quite plentiful, but it seems that they too are 
now dwindling in number, and will finally be entirely 
exterminated. 




THE FLYING SQUIRREL 

F all the mammals that it has been my 
pleasure to know a little about, there is 
none other so confiding, so gentle, and 
so graceful as the flying squirrel. There is nothing 
striking about him in the way of color, although the 
dense silky fur of a grayish brown above and white 
beneath, rivalling in softness and beauty that of the 
chinchilla, renders him one of the most beautiful of 
our squirrels. The eyes are very prominent, large, 
dark, and peculiarly expressive. 

The flying squirrel is a specialized type of his 
family, possessing a peculiar hair-covered membrane 
of skin on each side of the body between the fore and 
hind legs, and attached to both as far as the wrist 
and the ankle. When in a sitting posture or in the 
ordinary movements of the body, the flying mem- 
branes are drawn, by their own elasticity, close to the 
body, like little curtains, and do not detract from 
the delicate proportions of the graceful animal. But 

when the squirrel is about to fly it spreads its "wings" 

54 



The Flying Squirrel 55 

and from the summit of a tree springs lightly into the 
air, and then glides silently away, always in a slightly 
descending direction, until a movement, probably of 
both body and tail, inclines it upward, and it alights 
gently upon the object for which it set out. The tail, 
being thin and flat with closely set silken hairs, prob- 
ably serves a double purpose on these short flights, — 
that of rudder and parachute. I do not mean by this 
that the tail can in any way turn the animal from a 
straight line, except that probably by bending it down- 
ward, and at the same time elevating the chin, it 
brings the body to a convenient angle for alighting 
upon an upright object. The distance to which the 
flying squirrel can "fly" depends entirely upon the 
elevation from which it starts. The angle of descent 
is ordinarily from twenty to thirty degrees, although 
the desire of the animal, together with the direction 
and force of the wind, probably commands an extreme 
range of from forty degrees to a nearly perpendicular 
drop. The usual mode of travel from place to place, 
if trees are convenient, is sailing from the top of one 
to the base of another, then running up this and again 
sailing. It is surprising how quickly one of these 
little fellows can travel a quarter of a mile. 

Do not imagine, because you have never seen a 
flying squirrel other than a mounted specimen, that 



56 The Flying Squirrel 

they are rare; in reality they are quite plentiful, but 
being thoroughly nocturnal they are seldom seen. 
Now if you really wish to know the flying squirrel at 
home, go into a grove of large maples, beeches, or 
chestnuts on a still moonlight evening in September, 
find a comfortable seat and remain quiet for a little 
while. Should it so happen that you do not see a flying 
squirrel you will be amply repaid, for other night- 
loving animals are abroad and they are as interesting 
as those which work and play by day. If you have 
not been accustomed to this rare treat, your eyes will 
be busy with shadowy glimpses and your ears with 
strange new sounds. There will be the patter of 
light footsteps on the ground, the squeaking of un- 
seen creatures, the frantic hurry of some being pur- 
sued, the lonesome note of a distant bird, or the 
monotonous call of the whip-poor-will; these and a 
myriad of other sounds will fill the air, giving abun- 
dant evidence of the animal life that is astir. You 
listen! There is a sound like that of a nut dropping 
from a tree. Again you listen, and a slight rustle of 
leaves is heard overhead as a shadowy form glides 
through the air and, alighting upon the bole of a 
tree not ten feet away scamped up the tree very squir- 
rel-like. The sprite has scarcely started before an- 
other alights at nearly the same place, and hastens 



The Flying Squirrel 57 

after the first. It is not unusual for three or four 
flying squirrels to start from the same or neighboring 
trees, and at times there will be various lines of flying 
squirrels crossing and recrossing each other. 

Consider yourself fortunate! You are among the 
homes of the flying squirrels and you have seen them 
at their evening play. Frolic and amusement occupy 
the greater part of the waking hours of the flying 
squirrels, and old and young enjoy it alike. Even 
during the "business hours," when the storehouses 
must be filled with nuts for winter use, the same 
rollicking spirit holds sway over this squirrel band. 

The flying squirrels live in communities, but during 
the winter months a half dozen or more occupy the 
same cavity in a hollow tree. Even in the storing of 
food for winter, several may unite in collecting a 
general supply. The storehouse may be in the same 
cavity as the living quarters, or in a separate one in 
the same tree, while it is occasionally in a tree some 
little distance away. The food stored consists of nuts 
of various kinds; while in their season buds and 
fruits are much enjoyed. 

Wood choppers very often find the storehouses of the 
flying squirrels. I saw a man take six quarts of beech- 
nuts from a cavity in a large maple tree in the month 
of January, and from the same tree we counted eight 



58 The Flying Squirrel 

escaping flying squirrels. In this instance the squirrels 
and beechnuts were found in separate cavities. 

We captured two of the squirrels, a male and a 
female, and the man took them home for pets. In a 
few days they were perfectly tame, and at night- 
fall they would come from their cage, and play about 
the house, apparently as contented as though they 
were in their forest home. It was found, however, 
that care must be exercised, for the squirrels seemed 
to enjoy trying their teeth on almost everything except 
iron. In the spring comfortable quarters were made 
for the squirrels in the woodshed attic, with just 
enough of the wild about to remind them of their old 
home. At the rear of the attic stood a large maple 
tree, the boughs of which touched the house; the old 
tree had but one cavity, but it was supplemented by 
a woodpecker stub brought from the grove near by, 
and fastened in an upright position about thirty feet 
from the ground. It did not take the squirrels long 
to find an opening at the end of the attic by the old 
tree, and thus their playground was considerably 
enlarged. 

In the old stub the first litter was born, and as 
soon as these young squirrels were large enough to 
enjoy night frolics the attic became their playhouse. 

The distance from the old tree to the edge of the 



The Flying Squirrel 59 

forest, where the beechnuts and chestnuts were plenti- 
ful, was only twenty rods, and it was an easy twenty 
rods, for the squirrels made use of a fence and an 
orchard. 

By the time the frost had touched the leaves in 
the forest, leaving them russet, red, and gold, the old 
instinct had conquered the few months of civilizing 
influences, and the whole family of our flying squirrels 
must have visited the forest nightly, judging by the 
quantities of nuts that were stored in boxes in the 
attic and in the stub of the old maple tree. The 
family lived happily together that winter, but the 
next spring most of the young ones sought homes of 
their own, most likely in the forest near by. Other 
young were reared in the attic and the old tree, but 
the following August they all mysteriously disap- 
peared, both old and young, probably obeying some 
migratory instinct. It is worthy of note that the 
autumn following their disappearance the nut crop 
was a complete failure in that immediate vicinity. 
Is there any connection between the two circum- 
stances? If so, flying squirrels are as wise as they 
are beautiful. 

Besides nuts, buds, and various roots the flying 
squirrels, both those born in captivity and the wild 
ones, are particularly fond of meat. Without doubt 



60 The Flying Squirrel 

they catch sleeping birds and also destroy eggs and 
fledgelings. By reason of this taste they have proved 
themselves to be quite a source of annoyance to trap- 
pers, destroying the bait intended for larger game, 
springing the traps, and of course many times being 
caught. Because of this interference trappers some- 
times attempt to reduce the number of flying squirrels 
on the route along which they intend to trap during 
the fall and winter. This is done just before the 
trapping season opens, two trappers usually hunting 
together. One is armed with a heavy club, and the 
other with a shot gun. They go over the course 
searching for trees and old stubs that are likely to 
contain flying squirrels. When a suspicious looking 
cavity is observed the hunter with the gun stands 
ready, while the one with the heavy club strikes 
vigorously upon the butt of the tree. If the cavity 
is the home of a flying squirrel, it is quickly 
made known by his appearing at the entrance 
of the cavity, and frisking out upon the trunk of 
the tree, where he is easily shot by the hunter 
in waiting. Sometimes as many as six have been 
killed in as many minutes, all coming from one 
cavity. 

Although the flying squirrels cause the trappers 
many a weary tramp, they all agree that these little 



The Flying Squirrel 61 

animals are among the most beautiful creatures of 
the forest. 

Pet squirrels are very common, but they are usually 
of the red or gray varieties. I have had red, gray, 
and flying squirrels, but to me the flying squirrel is 
by far the most lovable. By nature he seems more 
gentle and affectionate; even a wild one will seldom 
nip your finger when taken in the hand, while a red 
or gray will bite fiercely. 

My red and gray squirrels were quite tame, but 
they always lacked the complete confidence which 
was so apparent in the flying squirrel. The latter 
would nestle in my hand, crawl into my pocket or up 
my sleeve, or even go to sleep in my vest-front, evi- 
dently enjoying the warmth of my body. This 
natural affection and love of warmth are probably 
the reasons why several flying squirrels live together 
during the winter. 

My flying squirrels occupied a large cage with a 
wheel attachment, the revolving of which seemed 
to afford them much amusement. Sometimes both 
squirrels would revolve the wheel together at a very 
high rate of speed, and then, clinging to the wires, 
ride round and round until the wheel nearly came 
to rest. Then both would put it in motion, often 
repeating the performance for half an hour at a time. 



62 The Flying Squirrel 

Again they would vary the entertainment by one doing 
the work and the other the riding. In fact they were 
apparently upon the lookout for new methods and 
combinations of revolving the wheel, and thus we 
were treated to a continuous and varied performance. 
A single incident is sufficient to illustrate their 
love for a new amusement. One evening I placed 
in their cage two small apples. Upon awakening 
the squirrels discovered the apples, and one of them 
began to nibble at the fruit. The other squirrel ap- 
proached the one eating the apple, who, to avoid 
being disturbed, immediately carried the apple into 
the wheel to complete his feast. In some manner 
the wheel began to revolve, and the bounding of the 
apple on the wire bars so amused the squirrel that 
he forgot his hunger, and began a play entirely new 
to him. Soon the other squirrel was attracted by the 
lively noise produced by the apple striking on the 
bars, and he joined his comrade in the wheel, and 
a rollicking time they had of it, jumping and bounding 
over the apple, while the wheel was rapidly revolving. 
This was the beginning of what proved to be great 
sport for the squirrels. After this it was not unusual 
for them to have two or three large nuts in the wheel, 
and when the wheel revolved somewhat of a medley 
resulted. 



The Flying Squirrel 63 

In all their varied movements in the wheel they 
were marvellously quick and graceful. Their motions 
were at times too rapid for the eye to follow. Some 
idea of their agility may be obtained by a description 
of the passage from the cage into the wheel; to go 
into the wheel the squirrels had to pass through 
a hole in one end of the cage, then through another 
hole in the end of the wheel, the holes being about 
two inches in diameter. By means of a light weight 
on one side, the holes were opposite only when the 
wheel came to rest. During its rapid revolution by 
one of the squirrels, the other would pass in and out 
with perfect ease. This is most wonderful, as it could 
have been but a fraction of a second when there was 
sufficient space for the squirrel to pass. Yet I never 
knew of either of them being caught. 

For two years the squirrels occupied the cage, and 
then other quarters were made for them in a tree 
near the house. There they remained during the 
spring and summer, but as the nutting season came 
the forest depths proved irresistible, and our little 
friends vanished into its enticing shade. 



PART II 
BIRDS 




THE BLUEBIRD 

GENTLE south wind has been blowing 

at intervals for a week, the snow banks 

are diminishing in size, and here and 

there the brown earth seems to be pushing itself up 

from beneath the drifts. The sun has loosed the 

ice-fetters, and again the murmur of the brook is 

heard; while over the water the pussy willows 

are hanging their swollen buds, and out in the grove 

the sap is beginning to drop from the maple trees. 

These are indeed signs of spring! Now it is time to 

listen for the note of the bluebird. A plaintive note 

it is at first, but it will soon give place to a pleasing 

song, never loud, but always sweet and altogether 

suggestive of the warblers. 

How welcome it is, — that bit of blue and brown, 

flitting among the yet naked boughs of the old apple 

trees! We look for the bluebird in spring with a 

feeling different from that for any other bird during 

the whole year. His note awakens within us the 

67 



68 The Bluebird 

assurance of the quick return of the spring beauty, 
and wake robin, and a whole troop of songsters. 

In a day or two Lady Bluebird will arrive, a very 
modest little woman, with less brightly colored plu- 
mage, and more retiring manners, than her lord's. 
Now, if you are patient, you will have an opportunity 
to observe a most interesting courtship; for Mr. Blue- 
bird is an attentive lover, exhibiting to his lady all 
the charms of his beautiful plumage, singing to her 
his sweetest songs, and feeding her with the choicest 
bits of food to be found. In actual bird life it some- 
times happens that a rival appears upon the scene, 
and then many are the contests with voice and beak, 
until one or the other is vanquished. After this 
the courtship proceeds smoothly, and before long 
the birds begin to look about for a suitable place 
for housekeeping. 

The " bird-boxes" and small cavities in trees are 
carefully inspected, until a spot is found to their 
liking. If the birds are not interfered with, the work 
of nest building progresses rapidly. But when the 
bluebirds are once settled they are very determined, 
usually succeeding in maintaining their own against 
their enemies, of which the house wrens, and especially 
the English sparrows, are chief. However, owing to 
the continuous warfare waged against them by these 




Tin; Bluebird Tree 



The Bluebird 69 

pugnacious foes, the bluebirds are, year by year, 
becoming less numerous about our dwellings. 

In my bird note book I find a sketch of the blue- 
bird families that have, for several years in succession, 
occupied my " bird-box." This artificial home con- 
sisted of a hollow limb, about twenty inches long 
and eight in diameter, closed at top and bottom, and 
having an entrance for the birds on one side, while 
on another side was a door, through which the nest 
and its contents could be inspected. In the wall 
opposite to the bird's entrance a microphone was 
arranged, and a line joined it to a telephone re- 
ceiver in the house. This unique " bird-box" was 
located about twelve feet above the ground and made 
fast to the body of a tree that stood in the rear of the 
house. 

I did not expect to obtain results that could any 
more be turned into words than could the music of 
the veery or the murmuring of a mountain stream; 
but I wanted to hear the notes of the old birds and 
young, when undisturbed by man, and this was the 
only method known to me of accomplishing the de- 
sired end. 

When the arrangements were completed, I waited 
for the house to be occupied. By March twentieth it 
had been inspected by many bluebirds, but none had 



jo The Bluebird 

decided to remain. Through the apparatus I had 
the pleasure of listening to bluebird conversations 
such as I had never heard before. As the birds were 
house hunting their notes were at times very spirited, 
and their quick movements were plainly indicative of 
excitement. 

The first week m April, after a very careful inspec- 
tion of the house inside and out, a pair of bluebirds 
decided to remain. They commenced the nest at 
once, using fine grass as material, and the sounds of 
their building could be heard very distinctly through 
the telephone receiver. The third day a great com- 
motion was heard over the line, and upon investigating 
I found that some English sparrows were trying to 
turn the bluebirds out. After two days of disturbance 
the bluebirds were victorious, but the male bird kept 
a very careful watch about the box for several days, 
proving himself to be a veritable "blue streak" to 
every English sparrow that came within a hundred 
feet of his home. 

In due season the nest was finished, and on April 
twenty-third there were five eggs. By May seventh 
all the eggs were hatched. The peeping of the little 
birds and the quieting notes of the mother could be 
plainly heard through the receiver. The notes varied 
greatly in pitch and quality; the mother bird using 



The Bluebird 71 

certain notes that the little ones appeared to answer, 
just as chickens will respond to certain sounds and 
movements of the hen. A certain note from the 
mother hen will call the chickens, while another will 
send them immediately to cover, if a hawk appears 
in the sky. 

If one carefully approached the tree and scratched 
on the bark, the mother would give one low note and 
every noisy baby bluebird would immediately become 
quiet. Each repetition of the experiment called forth 
the same low note. This is characteristic of other 
birds as well. The ruffed grouse does it, and there is 
every reason to believe that all birds have some sort of 
a language of their own. 

The old birds of this family became very tame. On 
the ninth day after the young were hatched the female 
must have been killed, for she disappeared on that day 
and was not seen again. This tragedy seemed to 
discourage the male, and as the young were in danger 
of starving, we took them into the house and brought 
them up by hand. They became great pets, and after 
they could fly about the yard they would come for their 
food several times a day. They remained until August 
fifteenth, and after that I was not sure that I saw them 
again, for one bluebird looks very much like another. 

In late summer the song of the bluebird is changed to 



72 The Bluebird 

a plaintive note that is as suggestive of coming winter 
as the song is of returning spring. At this season of 
the year, and especially in autumn, it is usual to see 
small flocks of them along the roadsides and about the 
orchards. At the approach of winter the greater 
number of these bluebirds migrate to the southern part 
of the United States, and some probably go as far south 
as the West Indies. 

During mild winters a few remain in the Northern 
States, and those who are fortunate enough to ramble 
about the hedges and byways sometimes find them in 
sheltered places. On pleasant days, too, the bluebirds 
may sometimes be seen in the open fields among the 
brown weeds, eagerly searching for the few seeds that 
the wind shakes from the pods still standing above the 
snow; or, perchance, they may be found about the hay 
stacks near the barns, where the cattle are fed in 
pleasant weather. 

One January morning I saw a very unusual bird- 
picture about one of these stacks. The ground was 
covered with a thick blanket of snow, over which the 
hay had been scattered. The loosened seeds were 
tempting bits of food for the hungry wild birds, and as 
the morning grew warmer a flock came from the thick 
underbrush of the woods near by. The greater num- 
ber were snowflakes, but there were a few sparrows 



The Bluebird 73 

and five bluebirds. On Nature's white background 
the blue of the bluebirds, the gray of the sparrows, and 
the brown and white of the snowflakes made indeed 
a variety of color and' contrast. 

The sweet disposition and gentle, lovable ways of the 
bluebird are evident even in captivity. I once had 
the pleasure of carefully studying the habits in captiv- 
ity of both old and young of this species. The old 
birds were kept in a large room with several other 
varieties of American birds, and here they were models 
of good behavior, not only among their own kind, but 
in their relations with the other birds. 

The young birds were kept in cages, and with a 
moderate amount of care and attention became very 
tame. It was amusing to see them, about the usual 
feeding time, arrange themselves on a particular perch. 
Each bird, in order of precedence, would take the food 
from a stick, and if one was purposely omitted, there was 
no fluttering of wings or selfish attempt to obtain the 
morsel as it was offered to the next bird. 

These unselfish table manners I have observed in 
wild bluebirds as well. Several years ago a pair of 
bluebirds selected, as a home, the deserted winter 
quarters of a downy woodpecker. The cavity was 
located in the dead branch of a cherry tree which stood 
in the yard in the rear of the house. On the seventh 



74 The Bluebird 

day after the young were hatched, a severe wind and 
rain storm so broke and split the old stub that the 
young were in danger of perishing. We soon converted 
a small basket into a temporary and comfortable nest 
for the unfortunate family, and from a second story 
window of the house we watched the birds unobserved. 
The old birds accepted the situation, and continued to 
feed and care for the young. As the food was brought 
there was no strife on the part of the young birds, but 
each w r aited his turn. This continued not only while 
the young were in the nest, but until they flew away. 

The bluebird makes a very playful and affectionate 
little pet. Mr. A. Radclyffe Dugmore tells of a very 
interesting one he possessed. "While I am writing," 
he says, "a pet one, but three months old, is sitting 
on my paper, seeming to wonder what I am doing 
and why I do not play with him. He nips my pencil, 
but I pay no attention to him; then he tries to creep 
up my sleeve, and still I pay no attention; so, dis- 
gusted, he flies off in search for ants or other small 
insects. After a time I raise my hand and call; 
back he comes, like a flash, and, hovering more like 
a large moth than a bird, he perches on my finger, 
singing at the same time a soft little song that is his 
method of speech." 




THE ROBIN 

HAT familiar and much-beloved bird, the 
robin, is found in summer throughout the 
greater part of North America. He has 
a very strong and aggressive personality, and a clear 
voice, which always plays a prominent part in our morn- 
ing bird chorus. His cheery friendliness renders him a 
great favorite, and his song compares very favorably 
with that of other members of his family. Although 
his music does not equal that of the thrush — that sweet 
warbler of the glen — there is scarcely another bird 
which expresses so much in its tones as does our 
robin. 

A few robins remain during the winter in the North- 
ern Sates, but most of them migrate at the approach of 
cold weather. In the Southern States during the 
winter months the robins may be found in enormous 
flocks feeding upon the holly, mistletoe, and Virginia 
juniper. There is very little singing at this period. 
but the call notes are frequently heard. 

Robins migrate for the most part in flocks, arriv- 

75 



j6 The Robin 

ing in considerable numbers in the latitude of New 
York about the middle of March. At this time they 
are in full song, although a few days later their music 
is more spontaneous and joyous. We are accus- 
tomed to date the real beginning of spring, not by 
the day of the calendar, but by the arrival of the 
robins. As we hear the old familiar song, we stop 
to listen, and pronounce it a splendid performance- 
You hear a great deal about the damage done by 
the robins in the cherry trees and berry patches. 
Why shouldn't the robin come in for his share? He 
has labored several months of the year in order 
that the trees might produce, therefore a part belongs 
to him. It has been said by Dr. Coues: "The robin 
is a great eater of berries and soft fruits of every 
description, and these furnish, during the colder 
portion of the year, its chief sustenance. Some of 
the cultivated fruits of the orchard and garden are 
specially attractive, and no doubt the birds demand 
their tithe; but the damage in this way is trifling at 
most, and wholly inconsiderable in comparison with 
the great benefit resulting from the destruction of 
noxious insects by this bird. The prejudice which 
some persons entertain against the robin is unreason- 
able; the wholesale slaughter of the birds which 
annually takes place in many localities is as senseless 



The Robin jj 

as it is cruel. Few persons have any adequate idea 
of the enormous, the literally incalculable, number of 
insects that robins eat every year. It has been found, 
by careful and accurate observations, that a young 
robin, in the nest, requires a daily supply of animal 
food equivalent to considerably more than its own 
weight. When we remember that some millions of 
pairs of robins raise four or six young ones once, 
twice, or even three times a year, it will be seen that 
the resulting destruction in insects is, as I have said, 
incalculable. I have no doubt that the services of 
these birds, during the time they are engaged in 
rearing their young alone, would entitle them to 
protection were the parents themselves to feed exclu- 
sively upon garden fruit for the whole period. But 
at this time the diet of the old birds is very largely of 
an animal nature; nor is this the only season during 
which the destruction of insects goes on. Upon the 
first arrival of the main body of birds, early in spring, 
long before any fruits are ripe, they throw themselves 
into the newly ploughed fields, and scatter over 
meadows, lawns, and parks, in eager search for the 
worms and grubs that, later in the season, would 
prove invincible to the agriculturist, were not their 
ravages thus stayed in advance by the friendly army 
of robins.' ' 



78 The Robin 

During the breeding season robins nest about the 
garden and house, sometimes even on the vines grow- 
ing over the veranda. Th favorite place of nesting 
seems to be about old and neglected orchards, but 
never have I found a nest in the deep woods. The 
robin when not molested has little fear of man, and 
the building of the nest and rearing of the young 
can be very carefully observed by any one. For 
this reason this is one of the best of birds for the 
young ornithologist to begin to observe. 

A few years ago I interested one of my young boy 
friends, who for two years past had been inclined to 
rob birds' nests, by making with him a careful and 
systematic study of the robin. 

On April twelfth a pair of these birds was dis- 
covered building a nest in a lilac bush close to the 
house, and but a few feet from the dining room window. 
The nest had scarcely been begun when discovered, and 
I determined, for the sake of my young friend, to culti- 
vate friendly relations between ourselves and the robins. 

The female was a half albino, the wings being 
partly white, and she had a few white feathers on her 
breast. The male was so much like other robins 
that, only as he grew tame, could we distinguish him. 
As it has been found that most animals are 
made more approachable by satisfying the appe- 



The Robin 79 

tite for food — even man being no exception — we 
decided to take advantage of this fact. Accordingly, 
on April fourteenth we placed a small board in the 
fork of two limbs of the lilac bush, on which we 
intended to offer food to the robins. We made it 
our business to be about the lilac bush and at the 
window as often as convenient, at first without ap- 
parently noticing the birds. In the beginning they 
were quite easily disturbed by our presence, and also 
by the appearance of the board so near their nest; 
the fear soon passed away, however, and it was sur- 
prising to notice how quickly it was dispelled after 
we began feeding them. In two days the robins 
would take food from the board while we were at 
the window, only six feet away. 

Meanwhile the building of the nest was progressing, 
and as it was only ten feet from the window, the process 
of construction could easily be watched. Both birds 
took part in the building, although the female seemed 
to do the most of the work, particularly the shaping 
of the nest, which was done largely by means of her 
body. The nest was finished on April twenty-fifth, 
and it was a typical robin's nest; the bulky part 
being composed of roots and grasses, while the inner 
wall of mud was lined with very fine grass and a few 
long horse hairs. 



8o The Robin 

On April twenty-sixth the first egg was laid. On 

the second day following, another, and so on, until the 
nest contained four eggs. The eggs were deposited 
in the morning between the hours of eight and twelve, 
and were of a beautiful greenish blue color, charac- 
teristic of the family to which the robin belongs. The 
female was on the nest but little until April thirtieth, 
but on May second the serious business of incubation 
began. In this the female took the most active part, 
being relieved about an hour and a half each day by 
the male, and with one exception she covered the 
eggs at night, although there was no apparent reason 
why the male should have assumed the responsibility 
on this particular night. Sometimes the male brought 
food to the female while she was on the nest. 

On the eleventh day after incubation began, the 
first young robin appeared, and two days later the 
other three eggs were hatched. The young birds 
grew very rapidly, and in twelve days were ready to 
leave the nest. During the time the young were in 
the nest the old birds constantly took food from the 
board, particularly worms. The young robins were 
quite tame at first, but, as time went on, gradually 
grew wilder, and finally disappeared altogether on 
June fifteenth. We often saw the female about the 
house, and the first week in July the old nest was used 



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The Robin 81 

again for a second brood, which was reared without 
accident. 

There being no distinguishing marks on the male, 
he was lost sight of on August twentieth. The female 
was last seen on September twenty-sixth. The dis- 
appearance of the old birds ended the observations for 
the year. The results had been successful beyond 
my expectations. I hoped to carry the study farther 
the next season, and assist my young friend in answer- 
ing the question which is so hard to answer, "Do 
birds return to the same nesting place year after year, 
and do they remember their human friends ?" 

The most direct benefit of the study, aside from 
the knowledge gained, was the conversion of the 
boy egg-collector into a protector of birds ; and strange 
as it may seem, his first real interest came with the 
keeping of notes. 

During the following winter the old nest was blown 
from the lilac bush. When March came, we kept a 
careful watch for the robins, and by the fifteenth 
several had been seen. On March twentieth one of 
our old friends appeared. It was the female, unmis- 
takable because of her peculiar markings. She seemed 
as tame as when she left on her fall migration. For 
a week she remained about the lawn and old orchard, 
and then disappeared for a few days, but on April 



82 The Robin 

sixth returned with her mate and began a nest in a 
bush close by the house. Only one brood was reared 
this season. The following spring she returned and 
reared two broods. With her fall migration our 
acquaintance ended. The next spring we waited and 
watched, even placing food upon the board in the 
lilac bush, but our old friends did not appear. 

WHY THE ROBIN'S BREAST IS RED. 

According to a certain legend, a bird played a part 
in the crucifixion. It was a modest little bird with 
gray plumage, which approached the cross timidly, 
uttering cries of grief. With its wings it tried to wipe 
away the blinding sweat and blood from the face of 
Jesus, while with its beak it tried to pluck away one of 
the thorns which was piercing his forehead. A single 
drop of blood fell on the breast of the pitying gray 
bird, and gave to the world the Robin Redbreast- 
Jesus said: "Blessed be thou, little bird, which sharest 
my sorrows! May joy accompany thee everywhere! 
Thine eggs shall be blue as the sky above; thou shalt 
be the 'bird of God,' bearer of good tidings." 




THE CHIMNEY SWIFT 

3IMNEY SWIFTS are found in all parts 
of the globe except the colder portions. 
There are about seventy-five known spe- 
cies, but of these only four live in North America. 

The swifts have slim bodies, rather short and com- 
pact feathers, while, for such small birds, their wings 
are unusually long and powerful, giving them unrivalled 
powers of flight. The natural homes and retreats of 
the swifts were formerly in hollow trees and caves, but 
these have been gradually abandoned for the chimneys 
used by civilized man. This adoption of a new home 
is a marked illustration of the readiness with which 
a bird may change its nesting place. Whether the 
home of the swifts is natural or artificial, when nesting, 
they are always associated in scattered companies, but 
for a few weeks before the fall migration they are 
decidedly gregarious, roosting in great numbers in 
favorable localities. 

One species of the swift family, which breeds in 
various parts of the Malay Archipelago, is famous for 

83 



84 The Chimney Swift 

making an edible nest. It was thought for a long time 
that the substance, used by the birds in the manufacture 
of these nests, was chiefly seaweed, partly digested and 
mixed with mucus from the salivary glands, but from 
recent chemical analysis it has been proved beyond 
doubt that it is mucus alone. There are some famous 
swift caves in the northern part of Borneo, and I quote 
the following from Mr. H. Pryer, who visited these 
caves some time ago : 

"At the White Cave and others I saw the nest- 
gatherers at work getting in their crop. A thin rattan 
ladder was fixed to the end of a long pole and wedged 
against the rocks. Two men were on the ladder; one 
carried a long four-pronged spear, a lighted candle 
being fixed to it a few inches below the prongs. By the 
aid of this light a suitable nest is found, and transfixed 
with the prongs; a slight twist detaches the nest un- 
broken from the wall of the rock. The spear is then 
passed within reach of the second man, who takes the 
nest off the prongs and places it in a pouch carried at 
the waist. The nests of best quality are bound up into 
packets with strips of rattan, the inferior being simply 
threaded together; the best packets generally weigh 
about one and a third pounds, averaging forty nests, 
and are sold at nine dollars each. These caves have 
been worked for seven generations without any diminu- 



The Chimney Swift 85 

tion in the quantity; three crops are taken during the 
year." 

Our chimney swift is a migratory bird, arriving 
from Central America, or still farther south, about the 
middle of April, and remaining until late in September. 
This bird is usually called a "swallow," or perhaps 
more frequently a "chimney swallow," but the likeness 
exists only in its habits and mode of dress, and not in 
its structure. Even in dress they may be easily dis- 
tinguished, for the swifts have ten primaries, or long 
wing-feathers, and an equal number of tail feathers, the 
shafts of which are exposed at the end, thus aiding the 
bird in clinging to an upright support; while the 
swallows have nine primaries and twelve tail feathers. 
As a matter of fact the swifts are more nearly related 
structurally to the goatsuckers and humming birds 
than they are to the swallows. 

Not only is the chimney swift confused with the 
swallow, but it shares some of the uncanniness ascribed 
to our bats, snakes, and toads. This is probably due 
to the nocturnal habits of the swifts and also to popular 
fables, written fifty years ago, concerning certain birds 
whose habits were at that time little known. It was, 
for a long time, believed that in the autumn swifts col- 
lected by hundreds in hollow trees, together with bats, 
snakes, and toads, and that at the appointed time all 



86 The Chimney Swift 

fell into a deep sleep, lasting until spring was well 
advanced. Others went still farther beyond the bounds 
of reason in declaring that the swifts descended to the 
bottom of rivers, ponds, and lakes, where, during cold 
weather, they buried themselves in the mud with the 
catfish, the eels, and the snapping turtles. It is sur- 
prising how long such fairy tales cling to a species, for 
less than a year ago an old lady told me, that when she 
was a girl the " chimney swallows" from all the sur- 
rounding country collected at her father's mill pond, 
and then at night, when no one knew it, "they dove to 
the bottom of the pond and remained there until the 
cowslips came up." 

Our chimney swift, in common with the other 
species of the family, has remarkable powers of flight, 
the estimated speed being from eighty to one hundred 
and ten miles an hour. This wonderful speed is 
attained by only a few of our birds. The swift is 
more often seen flying in the morning or late after- 
noon, and it apparently enjoys wet and gloomy 
weather more than the sunshine. The swift, like 
the swallow, feeds on the wing and its movements are 
swift and graceful, as it flies to and fro over its favor- 
ite feeding grounds. At times the wings vibrate very 
rapidly; then again the movement is but slight, pro- 
ducing a series of glides through the air, beautiful to 



The Chimney Swift 87 

see. During this splendid exhibition of flight there 
occurs at short intervals the not altogether unmusical 
sharp and rolling twitter. 

The nest of our swift is one of the most remarkable 
structures to be found among our common birds. 
It is usually placed in a chimney and is composed of 
twigs quite uniform in length and size, woven into 
a semicircular basket. As they seldom frequent the 
ground, there has been considerable speculation con- 
cerning the methods by which the swifts obtain their 
nesting material. It has, however, been found that 
instead of selecting material already scattered about 
by the wind they break twigs from dead limbs or 
trees, while in full flight. These twigs are held in 
place upon the side of the chimney and where they 
cross each other, by a very adhesive saliva secreted 
by the birds. When the nest is completed it is quite 
shallow as compared with that of a robin, being 
usually not more than a fourth as deep, and having 
none of the soft lining usually found in the nests of 
other birds. On the contrary, the home of the swift 
is rather rough within, while the entire surface, inside 
and out, has a glistening appearance due to the 
abundance of saliva which is used, not only at the 
intersection of the twigs, but also scattered some- 
what promiscuously over them. The saliva when dry 



88 The Chimney Swift 

is a hard glue-like substance, possessing considerable 
strength, but when moistened by continued rains it 
gradually softens and then it not infrequently happens 
that the nest, weighed down by the young birds, falls 
to the bottom of the chimney. If the fall does not 
kill the nestlings, they usually climb up the sides of 
the chimney for a short distance, and here they 
remain in a hanging position, being fed by the old 
birds until they are ready to fly and shift for them- 
selves. 

The young swifts are very interesting, although 
somewhat uncanny in their actions, resembling in 
their constant movements a bunch of wriggling snakes. 
At first I thought they were irritated by the vermin, 
so common about birds' nests, but as I failed to find 
anything of the sort, I looked for another cause. 
After careful observation I concluded that the move- 
ments w r ere due to an innate desire on the part of 
the young birds to preen their feathers, although the 
feathers had scarcely started. One does not become 
thoroughly aware of the constant motion of the young 
birds until one attempts to "take their picture, " 
when their restlessness becomes painfully apparent; 
it being almost impossible to catch the whole brood 
motionless, even for the fraction of a second. For 
this reason, in addition to the fact that their surround- 




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The Chimney Swift 89 

ings are such that the light is poor at the best, they 
are most difficult young birds to photograph. 

The swifts feed their young during the greater part 
of the night, and the noise made by their wings while 
passing in and out of the chimney often resembles 
the low rumbling of distant thunder. This is more 
pronounced by the time the second brood is reared, 
but it becomes unbearable only when, as sometimes 
happens for a week or two, a few hundred swifts 
take up a temporary residence in an old fashioned 
chimney, before starting on their southern journey. 

I remember very distinctly flocks of this kind which 
assembled at my father's old farmhouse and took 
up their abode in the "parlor" chimney. The flocks 
varied from a hundred to two or three times that 
number, and the usual time of assembling was early in 
September. Many a time at dusk I have watched the 
birds flying in a large circle above the house, and then 
all at once, even while I gazed, the mass would change 
form — those on the inner part gradually descending 
and the circle narrowing until it resembled an in- 
verted cone with rapidly moving sides, which swept 
lower and lower, until the birds at the apex dropped 
into the chimney, soon to be followed by the whole 
flock. I saw something of the same thing a few sum- 
mers ago in Princeton, New Jersey, although on a 



90 The Chimney Swift 

much larger scale; chimney swifts varying in number 
from twelve to fifteen hundred gathered each night, 
apparently from the surrounding country, to roost in 
an old fashioned chimney in an untenanted house on 
Nassau Street. How one chimney can possibly hold 
so many birds is a mystery which I have never yet 
been able to solve! 




THE BOBOLINK 

HE bobolink has a widespread geographical 
range, extending from the central por- 
tion of South America northward to the 
fifty-fifth parallel, and embracing all of the United 
States except the extreme western portion. It breeds 
from southern New Jersey northward to Nova Scotia 
and westward to Utah. Many are the names to which 
the bobolink answers : in the Southern States it is called 
the rice-bird, in the Middle States it is the reed-bird, 
while in the Northern States bobolink, May-bird, 
meadow-bird, butter-bird, and skunk-bird. 

From the extreme southern limit of their winter 
home, south of the Amazon, the males, travelling in 
flocks of several hundred, start on their northward 
journey about April first, arriving in Florida toward 
the latter part of the month and some days before 
the appearance of the females. Upon their arrival 
in the United States the males are in full song, and 
only one who has heard the wondrous melody of the 

bobolink can form any idea of the effect produced by 

91 



92 The Bobolink 

several hundred singing in chorus. Beautifully as 
they sing in the North, they favor the South with 
still rarer treats, Audubon gives a description of 
one of these charming concerts in the following 
words : 

" During their sojourn in Louisiana, in spring, 
their song, which is extremely interesting and emitted 
with a volubility bordering on a burlesque, is heard 
from a whole party at the same time; when, as each 
individual is, of course, possessed of the same musical 
powers as his neighbors, it becomes amusing to 
listen to a hundred or more of them beginning one 
after another, as if ordered to follow in quick suc- 
cession, after the first notes are given by the leader, 
and producing such a medley as it is impossible to 
describe, although it is extremely pleasant to hear. 
While you are listening the whole flock simultaneously 
ceases, which appears equally extraordinary. This 
curious exhibition is repeated at intervals during 
the day." 

About the first week in May the bobolink is with 
us, and he who has not had the pleasure of seeing and 
hearing this superb bird has a great treat in store. 
If the bobolink concert belongs to the South, we 
have the solo work in the highest state of perfection, 
for immediately upon arrival at the North each male 



The Bobolink 03 

begins to pay particular attention to some plainly 
dressed little bobolink maiden, and for the lady of 
his choice he sings his most hilarious melody. I 
know of nothing more delightful on a May morning 
than to be near an old orchard, where the sweet 
scented blossoms are still hanging, and to watch the 
bobolink at his wooing. As you approach, the female 
is not to be seen, but she is, without doubt, down in 
the grass, while the male, in his beautiful coat of black 
and creamy white, is sitting upon the tallest bush by 
the fence; or, perchance, is swinging for a moment 
from the slender branch of an elm, before rising grace- 
fully into the air and pouring forth such ringing, 
vibrating, tinkling, and rollicking notes as "'tshe, 
'tshe, 'tsh, 'tsh, 'tshe," and then circling right-about 
and setting sail for his former perch fairly shouting, 
"bob-o-lee, bob-o-lee, bob-o-linke." 

After the wooing the happy pair selects a meadow, 
preferably near a running stream, and in a tussock 
of grass surrounded by plenty of green verdure a 
snug nest is constructed of bits of dried grass, col- 
lected by both male and female. The eggs, number- 
ing from four to six, are of a grayish white with numer- 
ous blotches of umber upon them. 

The nest is very difficult to locate — hours upon hours 
have I spent in trying to find one. In approaching 



94 The Bobolink 

the nest the male bobolink uses the same tactics as 
does the wild turkey; proceeding leisurely, by a most 
roundabout way and pretending great anxiety over 
some different locality if you approach too near his 
nest and mate. The female is the more wary of the 
two, guarding the approach to the nest with the utmost 
care; she always runs through the grass a long distance 
before taking to her wings, except when you stumble 
upon her by chance as she is sitting upon the nest. 

While I was spending a summer in Princeton, New 
Jersey, studying the birds of that section, a friend of 
mine suggested a new method of finding the bobolink's 
nest, which was successful as compared with the old 
haphazard way of searching about in the grass wherever 
bobolinks were plentiful. The method was this : Hav- 
ing located a good bobolink meadow, it is necessary 
for two persons to operate together. They begin at 
one side of the field and walk across it abreast about 
seventy feet apart, holding between them a cord 
upon which are fastened sticks two feet in length and 
about eight feet apart. These sticks striking the grass 
frighten the sitting bird from the nest, and she flies 
directly up — instead of running through the grass 
as usual for some distance before taking to her wings — 
thus revealing her secret to the hunter. 

As soon as the young are hatched the male begins 




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The Bobolink 95 

the task of helping the female provide for the hungry, 
clamoring little family, and an arduous task it is, 
for even after the young leave the nest the parents 
provide food for them until they are able to find it 
for themselves. During this period the gaudy coat of 
the male bobolink disappears — it is moulting time — 
and the whole family is of the same sober color; 
the song also is given up along with the coat, and the 
only note heard is the call note, a metallic chink. 

About the first of August most of the young bobo- 
links are on the wing, practicing for their long journey; 
the old and young become more clannish each day 
as they move slowly southward along the river courses, 
where the smaller flocks unite, making a vast army, 
which moves slowly toward the rice fields. The 
bobolinks now become fat and thousands of them 
are shot and sold in the markets. Their flesh is said 
to be very delicate. 

It is toward the latter part of August they reach 
the rice fields, and for about six weeks there is no 
rest for the rice growers. The birds swarm upon 
the fields by millions — a scourge worse than a plague 
of locusts. The loss caused by the bobolinks in the 
rice fields of the South must amount anually to over 
two million dollars. A greater part of this loss is 
incurred directly by the maintaining of " bird-minders," 



96 The Bobolink 

who patrol the fields from early morning until after 
sunset, firing guns and cracking the long lashes of 
whips. It is generally supposed that the firing of 
guns in the rice fields is for the purpose of killing 
the bobolinks, but, as the shot would destroy the 
rice, its object is simply to frighten the birds. Unless 
one has actually seen it, one cannot appreciate the 
amount of damage done by the bobolinks in the 
rice fields. To protect a hundred acres of rice from 
the bobolinks often costs from eighty to ninety 
dollars. 

Besides the " bird-minders," other methods of pre- 
venting the ravages of the bobolinks have been tried, 
but thus far sooner or later all have failed. Among 
the various schemes probably the oldest and most often 
tried remedy is that of tarring the rice before it is sown. 
The tar on the rice is very distasteful to the birds, so 
that it has some effect in preventing the germinating 
rice from being pulled; but as the fields, except on the 
" uplands," are flooded as soon as the rice is sown, the 
long soaking renders the tar less efficient. The flying 
of kites over the fields was at first looked upon as a 
very effective remedy, but as the bobolinks soon became 
accustomed to them, they too proved ineffectual. 

The turkey-buzzards are very plentiful in the South, 
and an attempt has been made to use them in frighten- 



The Bobolink 97 

ing the bobolinks. For this purpose, poles from ten 
to twelve feet high were set up in various parts of the 
rice fields, at the tops of which were small platforms, 
and upon these meat was placed to attract the buzzards. 
These large birds flying about were mistaken by the 
bobolinks for hawks, and for a time this worked 
admirably, but as soon as the birds discovered their 
mistake the buzzards no longer alarmed them 

The bobolink question in the South is indeed a 
serious one, and the circumstances connected with it, 
though probably natural, are extremely interesting to a 
student of bird life. The bobolinks make havoc in 
the rice fields because man has selected for his own use 
the resting and feeding places which the birds have had 
since before the settlement of the country. If either 
is an usurper it is man. From the early bird history it 
is noted that the habits of the bobolink have remained 
practically the same; namely, the course of migration, 
the food habits, the love for the open meadow where it 
nests, and the points of departure and returt to the 
United States are all unchanged. 

When the forests of the Northern States gave place 
to meadow lands, the nesting territory of the bobolinks 
was greatly enlarged, and was no doubt a factor in 
increasing their numbers. 

During their spring migration northward from South 



98 The Bobolink 

America, the larger portion of them entered the United 
States by the way of Florida ; the remainder, especially 
those occupying the western portion of the country, 
came in by the way of the Mississippi valley. In former 
times the Atlantic coast furnished the bobolinks with 
plenty of natural food, such as weed-seeds and wild 
rice. This was the condition in the latter part of the 
seventeenth century, when the bobolink was beloved 
by the people of the North and South alike. Mean- 
while two conditions were slowly being brought about : 
meadow lands were increasing year by year in the North, 
and the growing of rice in the South was fast becoming 
a vast industry. The bobolinks now found beautiful 
nesting fields in the North, and, directly in the line of 
their old migration route, man was furnishing a bounti- 
ful supply of food in the way of the young rice, just 
beginning to appear above the ground. Another factor 
which should not be overlooked is, that, after the 
bobolinks' long sea journey, they are naturally exhausted 
upon reaching the Southern States, and so stop for a 
little period before . they begin the long northern 
journey to their summer homes. This enforced rest 
brings them into the region of the rice, where, at the 
expense of the planter, they recuperate very rapidly. 
If the arrival of the birds was but a few weeks earlier 
or a few weeks later, the rice would escape uninjured. 



The Bobolink 99 

During the southern migration opposite conditions 
prevail, although with similar results to the rice grower; 
the birds now take the land migration first, stopping 
in the Southern States to recruit their exhausted 
energies, caused by the rearing of the brood and by the 
long flight. This stop-over period in the South comes 
at the season of the rice harvest, furnishing the birds 
with an easy food supply — far easier than it would be 
to get it from the uncultivated fields — and this, 
coupled with the fact that the rice fields are limited 
in area, causes an individual loss to rice growers that 
would not be felt to the same extent if the crop were 
a general one, such as the oat or wheat crop. 

That birds do not go much out of their old routes for 
food is well illustrated in the case of Texas. It is fast 
becoming a rice growing state, but as it is a little to 
one side of the path of the bobolinks that migrate 
through the Mississippi valley, the rice fields are not 
very seriously damaged. 

We can easily see that to the southern rice grower 
the beauty of the bobolink, the sweet melody of its 
song, Bryant's poem — " Robert of Lincoln'' — or the 
verses of Wilson Flagg can appeal but little. Poetry 
and sentiment do not often atone for individual loss, 
and the passage of the bobolink is truly a scourge to 
the South. 



ioo The Bobolink 

What are we at the North to think of our bobolink? 
To me the happy days of youth were made happier by 
the bubbling, rollicking melody of the bobolink, and 
I cherish the memory of it above all other bird music. 

"Nuff sed June's bridesman, poet o' the year, 
Gladness on wings, the bobolink, is here." 




THE SCREECH OWL 

[HE screech owl is found throughout the 
whole of the United States and the south- 
ern part of Canada. It is one of the 
sma'ler owls, being about eight inches in length, 
with conspicuous ear tufts; its wings and tail are 
barred and its legs feathered. The adult bird may 
be gray or brownish red. This variation in color, or 
dichromatism as it is called, is well marked, and for 
a long time it was supposed to have something to do 
with the sex or age of the bird, some scientists even 
going so far as to class the two as different species. 
In reality it has to do with none of these, although 
just why it occurs has not been satisfactorily answered. 
This dichromatism occurs very frequently among the 
squirrels, and it is not uncommon in the insect world. 
The screech owl is one of our most beneficial owls, 
for it feeds principally upon mice, reptiles, and insects, 
but sometimes — upon small birds. The greatest good 
is done in the destruction of field-mice, which do 
so much damage to the grass roots, to the grain both 

IOI 



io2 The Screech Owl 

when stacked and in the shock, and to young fruit- 
trees. The greatest damage to trees occurs in that 
part of the owl's range where the snow is so deep 
that it is impossible for the bird to reach the mice. 

To the field student of natural history there are 
no tracks in the snow more common than those of the 
short-tailed field mouse. They are particularly plen- 
tiful about hedgerows, brush heaps, stone piles, 
hay and grain stacks, and farm buildings, while the 
orchard is one complete network of them. Some- 
times in the morning one may read on the soft 
snow a chapter from Nature, written in her own 
hand and better than anything ever found in 
books. Let us study it together. The old orchard is 
before us; many of the trees have long since passed 
their commercial usefulness, but they should be spared, 
for they are now the homes of our animal friends. 
Time and the elements have dealt harshly with them, 
and the boisterous wind has torn many a limb asunder; 
here, for many years, the flickers have drilled their 
homes, and the cavities in the old trees have grown 
larger year by year. Toward one old tree, one-half 
of which is tipped over until it touches the ground, 
many mice tracks converge, — probably the seeds in 
the apples beneath the snow are the attraction, or 
perhaps some other dainty well liked by the mouse, 



The Screech Owl 103 

We notice that here a well defined track suddenly 
ends, and we wonder where the mouse could have 
gone; but if we look a little closer, we find, at the end 
of the trail on either side, a slight mark in the snow. 
These marks were probably made by the wing-tips 
of some night flying bird, in whose deadly grip the 
little mouse met its end. We now examine some of 
the cavities in the old trees, from one of which we 
draw forth a plump, sleek screech owl. Could he 
but talk, he would without doubt be able to explain 
those marks in the snow, and to tell the reason why 
the mouse would never again scamper about in the 
moonlight, leaving behind him dainty footprints in 
the snow. 

Since the screech owl is of such great economic 
value, its presence in the agricultural districts should 
be encouraged. It is not, like many other birds, 
beneficial in one part of its range and harmful in 
another; but in doing so much good the screech owl 
sometimes does a little harm, for it occasionally kills 
small birds, and has been known to attack a ruffed 
grouse or hen, though no serious harm came to either. 
However, this bird catching propensity of the owl is 
very much in its favor at present, for it has developed 
a liking for the English sparrow, and is frequently to 
be seen about ivy covered buildings and other favorite 



104 The Screech Owl 

roosting places of the sparrows. This good report of 
the screech owl seems to be common in other states 
besides New Jersey and New York. From Mount 
Perry, Ohio, Mr. R. S. Russell writes as follows: 

"Last summer the English sparrows were so thick 
around my house as almost to set me mid, when a 
little screech owl got to visiting us every night and at 
each visit he carried off a sparrow. My house is 
thickly covered with vines, and the little owl would 
make a dash into the vines and capture his sparrow 
every time. By fall they were well thinned out." 

The screech owl breeds throughout its range, gen- 
erally in hollow trees, but not in the deep woods. 
Little nesting material, other than rotten wood and 
a few feathers, is used. The eggs, varying in number 
from four to six, are white and nearly round, and 
in our latitudes are usually deposited from the fifth 
to the twentieth of April. 

The young, if taken a few days before they are 
ready to leave the nest, may be tamed quite easily. 

In the latter part of Tune, 1904, I was informed 
that a coachman had caught two little owls while 
they were lazily dozing the morning hours away on 
the top of a woodpile. I called upon the man, and 
was informed that he had two owls, which he called 
"cat-owls." They were in a box by the barn, and 



The Screech Owl 105 

he told me that three times a day they were fed bread 
soaked in milk. The larger owl, he informed me, 
was a male and the smaller one a female. I do not know 
how he determined this, but he was very positive in 
his statements concerning owls, telling me a great 
deal about these birds: that they were very scarce; 
that if, when about to set out on a journey an owl 
" hooted," yon were sure to have bad luck; also that if 
for three nights in succession an owl was heard close 
to a house and from the same tree, there would be 
a death in the family within the next six months. To 
all this astonishing information he added that he 
could take these birds to a man in Orange who would 
pay at least six or eight dollars for them. 

I pitied the little birds — they were screech owls — 
and offered the man what I considered to be a moder- 
ate sum for them. He accepted the offer very 
quickly, although it was considerably less than he 
had said he could get for them in Orange. 

I carried them home in a paper box, and arranged 
temporary quarters for them, until I could construct 
something better. I gave each of them an English 
sparrow, which I fancied was more to their liking 
than bread and milk; nor did they need to be urged 
to eat, but eagerly began their feast at once. 

We gave them appropriate names, corresponding to 



io6 The Screech Owl 

sex as indicated by their former owner, calling the 
larger one "Billy" and the smaller one " Betty." 
They were rather large to thoroughly tame, but I 
handled them quite a little, and soon Betty appeared 
to enjoy it and became very friendly, but Billy would 
sometimes protest strongly with a hissing noise, 
similar to the prolonged sound of the letter a in 
care, accompanied by a snapping of his beak. Betty 
became so tame that my little daughter could scratch 
the owl's head, and it would have been difficult to 
tell from the appearance which one enjoyed it the 
more. 

The little owls soon came to know my voice. When 
I called his name, Billy in particular would give me 
his peculiar cry of a, even before I was in sight. 
If he failed to answer, I always tried to get him to 
1 speak ' before I would give him his portion of food. 
It was evident that this sound expressed with him 
more than one thing, and it seemed to me to be dif- 
ferently accented on different occasions. I did not 
think at the time that this training would serve in 
any particular way, except that it would probably 
strengthen certain points that have to do with animal 
intelligence. Upon arriving home one day, how- 
ever, I was told that Billy and Betty had escaped, and 
that, although the basement had been thoroughly 




PQ 






The Screech Owl 107 

searched, neither could be found. I myself searched 
the basement again, but with no better success. Fi- 
nally I called " Billy, Billy/' and listened. Billy 
promptly responded by giving the sound of a, and, 
guided by the sense of hearing, I found him sitting 
on the gas pipe close by a joist, with Betty beside him. 

The next morning I put a basin of water into a box, 
and in a short time Billy was taking a bath, and when 
he had completed it, he was the wettest bird that I 
ever saw; even the feathers on the top of his head 
were wet. After this Billy took a bath very often, 
but Betty less often. 

I placed them in bushes several times, just to see 
what they would do. Both of them could fly well, but 
they did not seem to think of it when out-of-doors. 
When all was quiet they would remain motion- 
less; startle one, however, and it would open its eyes 
wide, but if the light was bright the bird would 
quickly bring the lids close together, forming a mere 
slit, thus shutting out most of the light, and probably 
by this means giving it a far clearer image of me. 
Again being left alone for some time, it would arrange 
its feathers and become as motionless as before, 
keeping always the ear-tufts slightly raised. But if 
I gradually approached, it would slowly rise to its 
full height, at the same time elevating the car tufts. 



108 The Screech Owl 

Standing in this position it resembled more nearly 
an old stub on the limb than a bird. 

At last the owl-house was completed and placed 
in a cherry tree in the garden. Late in the after- 
noon the owls were put in it — free at last and with a 
home besides. The next morning both were there; but 
whether they had been out during the night I could 
not say. The second morning Billy was gone, and 
although I looked about I failed to find his hiding- 
place. In the afternoon I was working in the garden, 
and an old robin, that had a nest in the next yard, 
was making a great disturbance. I could see no 
cat or other cause for this outcry, and the young 
robins were not large enough to leave the nest. I 
stood it until my curiosity got the better of me, and 
then set out to find the cause of all this alarm. By 
this time the male robin had arrived, and he too was 
greatly distresssed. A bluebird that chanced to be 
near had joined in, and then it dawned upon me that 
it might be the sight of Billy that was causing this 
uneasiness among the birds. Sure enough, in a snug 
retreat formed by some branches sat Billy, with his 
eyelids slightly open, trying to discover what all this 
fuss was about. I returned him to his home, and 
for the next two weeks he was to be found there nearly 
every 7 day; Betty, however, was the more regular of 



The Screech Owl 109 

the two. The owls never seemed to be hungry, but 
this I accounted for by the fact that in the next yard 
there were several evergreens, where English spar- 
rows roosted and nested in considerable numbers. 

Vacation time came and passed, and when I re- 
turned, Billy was not in, but Betty was at home and 
had grown both in stature and in beauty during my 
absence. It seemed to me that the sparrows had 
greatly diminished in number, much to my joy. In 
a few days Billy returned, and he too had grown to 
be a beauty. 

During the autumn and early winter they were to 
be found the greater part of the time in their snug 
house in the cherry tree, but occasionally one or 
both would be absent for two or three days at a time. 
It is now the first of February 1905, and the little owls 
are still "at home." I hope that they are rightly 
named, "Billy" and "Betty," and that when spring 
arrives they will decide to nest in their present abode. 




THE SPARROW HAWK 

HE sparrow hawk is sometimes called the 
"killy hawk," from the sound of its 
note, " killy-killy-killy," repeated in rapid 
succession. This beautiful and singularly col- 
ored little bird is quite plentiful in the northern 
part of the United States in summer, but at the ap- 
proach of winter many migrate to the Southern States. 

This hawk usually nests in large woodpecker 
holes, and consequently rears its brood quite 
close to the habitation of man. The period 
of incubation is about three weeks, and for several 
days after hatching the young are covered with a very 
soft down; in fact some of the down is not molted 
by the time the young birds are ready to fly. 

It is a bird of the open country, rather than of the 
deep woods, and often it may be seen perched upon 
a dead limb of a tree by the meadow, watching for a 
mouse or a grasshopper. When the hawk has located 
ts quarry, it hovers above it for a moment, then, 
dropping quickly, seizes it with its sharp talons, and 




o 

< 

IT. 

O 

P 

o 

> 



The Sparrow Hawk 1 1 1 

bears it away to the perch, to be devoured at leisure. 
I have often watched these birds feasting upon grass- 
hoppers; and so intently were they engaged that I 
could approach very near their watch towers without 
seeming to disturb them in the least. One August 
afternoon I very unexpectedly came upon a sparrow 
hawk as he sat upon a stub, and as he paid no atten- 
tion to me I watched him for some time. Within 
half an hour he caught and brought to the stub twelve 
large grasshoppers, which he devoured with apparent 
relish. This hawk feeds upon other insects also, 
seeming to have a special liking for crickets and 
spiders. 

When the insects upon which he feeds are scarce, 
he gives more attention to the capture of mice; at 
such times he may be found about haystacks and 
even farm buildings, ready to capture any mouse 
that dares venture from under cover. Probably when 
food is scarce this hawk occasionally captures a bird, 
but this is the exception, rather than the rule. The 
fact that it is a hawk and has been known even occa- 
sionally to capture a bird or a chicken is, in the eyes 
of many people, reason enough for exterminating it. 
They do not stop to consider the great amount of 
good it has done in destroying mice alone. From 
the nature of its food, this bird should be protected 



112 The Sparrow Hawk 

by law, instead of being a mark for every passing 
gunner. 

The sparrow hawk lives in harmony with most other 
birds, even when nesting near them. Last summer 
I discovered two old maple stubs standing about 
twenty feet apart by the edge of a meadow; in one 
of these were flickers nesting, in the other were three 
hungry young sparrow hawks always clamoring to 
be fed. I watched these two families until the young 
of each flew away, and not once did I observe the 
sparrow hawks troubling the flickers. On the con- 
trary, the sparrow hawks were a help, keeping all 
larger hawks and crows at a distance. 

The blue jay appears to have a great dislike for 
the sparrow hawk, and on several occasions I have 
seen three or more blue jays noisily pursuing one 
hawk. I remember an incident of this kind that 
happened in the autumn of 1900 in a large apple- 
orchard, where I was photographing the nest of a 
red squirrel. When I first entered the orchard I 
noticed the hawk perched on the top of a tree, and 
as he was not far from the squirrel's nest, I frequently 
looked his way. It seemed rather unusual to me 
that this species of hawk should remain on one perch 
for such a long time, so I drew near to the tree. As 
I did so the bird gently raised his wings, vibrating them 



The Sparrow Hawk 113 

two or three times, as if to make sure of them, and 
flew to a near-by tree; but the flight indicated to me 
that one of its wings had been slightly injured. I 
did not attempt to make the bird fly again, but after 
watching it a few moments I returned to my task. 

In an hour or so five blue jays came to the orchard 
from a grove not far away, and, as is usual with these 
birds at this season of the year, they were noisy and 
ready for any sort of a frolic. Shortly after their 
arrival they discovered the sparrow hawk; instantly 
their crests were lowered, and for a moment their 
harsh notes were silenced. Recovering from their 
apparent surprise at finding a hawk so motionless, 
they soon found their voices, and one would scarcely 
believe that five birds could make such a noise. 

At first the jays were content to remain some dis- 
tance from the hawk and revile him in their language, 
but as this had little visible effect on him, and espe- 
cially as he did not move, they approached nearer 
and nearer by degrees, finally alighting upon the tree 
with him; whereupon the hawk flew to another 
perch, only to be followed in a most tantalizing man- 
ner by the scolding jays. Several times this was 
repeated, the jays following closer and closer each 
time, till at last the hawk became so enraged that 
he made a dash at the nearest jay, striking him with 



1 14 The Sparrow Hawk 

his talons in such a way as to pull out a few feathers. 
At this unexpected onslaught of the hawk, the noisy 
band of jays retreated to the forest, leaving "Killy" 
in the orchard. 

The sparrow hawk, if taken from the nest while 
quite young, becomes one of the most charming of 
bird pets. The beautiful coloring of the feathers, 
the unusual intelligence and the graceful movements 
of the bird endear him to the few who have really 
come to know him. A friend of mine who had a 
tame one several years ago, told me that of all the 
birds he had tamed and loved, he cared most for his 
sparrow hawk. This hawk seemed to show no affec- 
tion for any one but its master; but of him it was very 
fond, often, when he was out in the open field, alighting 
most unexpectedly upon his head or shoulder It 
spent the greater part of the time about the open 
fields and orchard catching insects and mice; occa- 
sionally it would go to the woods, being absent some- 
times nearly all day. The hawk enjoyed nothing 
better than hunting mice, if only his master would 
overturn the flat stones and boards for him, and it 
was surprising how expert he was in capturing them. 
He would catch them even when his appetite was 
satisfied, and, after killing them, would leave them 
on the fence or the limb of a tree. 



The Sparrow Hawk 115 

This pet hawk rendered another good service, by- 
guarding the chickens, although it was probably unin- 
tentional on his part, putting to flight all crows or 
hawks that came about the poultry yard. One day, 
while endeavoring to drive away a large hawk, a 
fierce fight ensued. The larger hawk retreated toward 
the woods, but the combat was kept up until, as they 
rose higher and higher, the watchers at the house lost 
sight of them. When last seen each was trying to 
gain the advantage that the more elevated position 
afforded. The little sparrow hawk never came back; 
whether he fell a victim to the larger hawk or 
whether he was shot by some thoughtless gunner 
will probably never be known. 



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